


Re-animated (No Zombies!) -  a returned au.

by emletish



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Ancient Dad reflexes, Bad Puns, Elena finding joy, Elena is bad at feelings, Elena's hard won approval, F/F, F/M, Family Bonding, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Hector and Victoria are back from the dead, Hector finding acceptance, Hector gets to know his living family, Hector is ridiculous and delightful, Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Idea not mine, Inspired By Tumblr, Long Distance Pining, Miguel is awesome, Rosa is a perfectionist, Shenanigans, Victoria is sassy, being confused by the modern world, clearing up misconceptions about each other, dad jokes, my take on a returned Au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 01:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 83,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16864066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emletish/pseuds/emletish
Summary: Re-animated, that was the word the newspapers chose to use. It sounded less creepy. Undead gave off the wrong impression, after all. It made people think of zombies and all those terrible movies Abel liked.No Zombies!orHow Elena copes with suddenly having her beautiful sister and that fool musician suddenly back from the dead, in her kitchen, and breaking her microwave.





	1. So now you're back...

 

December, 2018.

 

 _Re-animated,_ that was the word the newspapers chose to use. It sounded less creepy. Undead gave off the wrong impression, after all. It made people think of zombies and all those terrible movies Abel liked.

 

Re-animated sounded harmless, right?

 

Still, it nearly frightened Elena into an early grave herself when her re-animated sister appeared in the workshop. Victoria snuck in, wearing nothing but a hospital gown. Her feet were bare and her hair dishevelled. She looked over Elena's shoulder, criticised her stitching and then promptly fainted in her sister's arms.

 

Victoria had always been a bit of a drama queen.

 

She loved making an entrance.

 

-0-

 

“Experts” were frequently interviewed on her radio and on the televison, but Elena thought they were all just making it up as they went along.

 

Experts, pah! This had never happened before, Everyone was just guessing. Elena wasn't going to pay any attention to some know-nothing-professor who warned people not to get 'too attached' to their newly returned loved ones, because it was unnatural.

 

Not be attached to Victoria – her beautiful sister? Pah! Elena should track that professor down and hit him with her shoe. What an idiot. Yes, it was a little _strange_ having Victoria back, but they would get used to it. Some members of the family would take more time to getting used to it than others.

 

Miguel was clearly delighted to see her. Mama Coco had been exceptionally confused, but very happy to see her daughter again. Abel had been avoiding Victoria – too many of those fool Zombie movies.

 

Rather than a music ban, they should have had a zombie movie ban.

 

No Zombies!

 

Victoria had come back as she was the day she died. She looked exactly as Elena had last seen her, waving from the end of the street and excited about her holiday. Victoria didn't have a scratch on her – no indication that she had been in a horrific bus accident. She said she had woken up in the hospital where she had died. She was meant to wait for “processing” and “observation”, but she had felt impatient to see her family and had fled.

 

Victoria's experience was the common story. The re-animated appeared where they had died, in a sudden explosion of petals. This was causing a great deal of commotion in the hospitals. They were suddenly teeming with people. They also had required specialist cleaning services to free them of petals, but only one expert had been brave enough to point out this particular inconvenience.

 

One ambulance had six people appear inside it at once! This nearly caused a second accident that would have sent everyone back to the land of the dead.

 

There didn't seem much rhyme or reason to who returned. So far it was mostly young people; those who had died sudden, accidental deaths, those who had died violent deaths, those who had died of completely natural causes, like unknown brain tumors. They were the ones who returned. The TV and the newspapers blared theories. Miguel was lapping them up.

 

“People who died young and violently? Papa Héctor was murdered when he was only 21. Do you think he might come?” Miguel had asked, when it first started. His voice was so hopeful. He took to glancing out the window frequently, and looking down the road, just in case.

 

It reminded Elena of the way Mama Coco had been last year, before the magic of Miguel's song had brought her back to herself. Mama had always been looking out the window, waiting for her papa, and not understanding why he never came home. It had made Elena very angry at that musician. That man had _too much of an effect_ on people. He could just make people love him forever. Mama Coco wasn't waiting for him any more. Elena wasn't going to have Miguel ruin it and give her false hope.

 

“That musician was as reliable as a box full of dysfunctional street cats. He wont show up if we expect him too. Stop looking out the window for him.” Elena had scolded that boy harshly for his foolishness.

 

Elena had felt a little worried. Miguel had been a little _obsessed_ with that musician for over a year. He seemed to know how much his devotion to the musician annoyed her. Elena had hoped it was a phase and Miguel would move on to other more common forms of teenage rebellion. Most of her boys had an ill-advised flirtation with smoking at this age...

 

If Miguel was smoking – Elena could feel completely righteous about shutting that nonsense down.

 

But no, Miguel had no interest in smoking, because it would ruin his singing voice. Miguel studied his great great grandfather's large, loopy handwriting and music notes and taught himself songs. Miguel always sat with Mama Coco and wanted to hear stories of her childhood. Miguel got copies made of the old family photo, saying things like “I'm so proud of my family.”

 

Elena didn't think it was healthy.

 

Though some good things had come out of his little obsession.

 

The music ban had been lifted, and even Elena could admit that everyone was much happier, especially the children. Miguel, Rosa and Abel had all chosen to start learning instruments – and Elena had even caught Enrique strumming on the guitar and smiling to himself when Miguel was at school.

 

There was also the added benefit of the _royalties_. Apparently the musician, someone Mama Imelda had always described the human equivalent of a drunken llama trying to limbo under an improbably narrow opening, had actually been very talented. He had written some songs that were still popular today. The rights of the songs had been transferred to the family, as Héctor's nearest living relatives. They referred to it as “The Héctor Money.”

 

Elena didn't let it go to her head. She was sensible with money. Still, she had splurged a little. All the little projects Elena had been putting off could suddenly be afforded with ease. She had the whole casa, workshop and store re-painted, the roof re-tiled and the bathrooms re-done. She was going to have the courtyard re-paved. She had even installed air conditioning in nearly every room.

 

Miguel seemed _so sure_ that Héctor would return to them. He didn't seem to understand how awkward it would be for the adults in the family. At first, no one came knocking on their door, and Elena thought they would be spared from this nonsense, and she had breathed an internal sigh of relief. But then Victoria had appeared several days after “the event” had started - because the family was never spared being part of the nonsense.

 

Elena had a feeling that Miguel just attracted nonsense to them.

 

At first, when Victoria had been dazed and confused and fainting all the time, Elena had guarded her fiercely. She'd put her sister in the nice new guest bedroom. She'd even had an en suite bathroom put in (another perk of the Héctor money.)

 

Victoria loudly expressed her displeasure at having to use the toilet again. It was, by far, the strangest conversation of Elena's life. Victoria forgot to eat unless Elena ate with her. She had intermittent narcolepsy and would fall asleep anywhere. She slept for most of the day – she was more awake at night, when nearly everyone else was dreaming. She was like a jet-lagged passenger. To be fair, Victoria had come a long way. Elena had been trying to let her sleep.

 

“Wake me up for dinner. I want to see everyone again properly.” Victoria had demanded. Victoria emerged in a bright, patterned dress she had borrowed from Gloria. She was too tall and too skinny and it didn't fit her properly. _Shopping,_ Elena thought to herself. _I must take her shopping._

 

Miguel was instantly by her side, rushing over and knocking Rosa out of the way to be the first to give Victoria a big hug. He started asking a million questions, babbling at a mile a minute about their dead relatives. Victoria seemed to know exactly what he was talking about.

 

Miguel had come back home with such a strange story after he had run away last year. It was crazy, _beyond crazy,_ to think that her little Miguel had visited the land of the dead. But Miguel had been insistent.

 

At first all the adults had been humouring him gently to his face, but making comments about hallucinogenic cacti behind his back. Then some of what Miguel had said turned out to be true. _That man_ had been murdered, his songs had been stolen, and the musician with the statue on the Plaza had been to blame. All of that could be proven, but Elena highly doubted the rest of it.

 

Pepita became an enormous, glowing flying jaguar? Pah!

 

Little Miguel must have accidentally consumed some cactus to come up with that!

 

Now Elena realised it must have been true. All of it.

 

“Is anyone else coming back? Is Héctor coming back?” Miguel was asking, bouncing on the balls of his feet, beyond excited.

 

“Héctor's not here yet?” Victoria's brow furrowed in concern. “I thought he'd get here before me. He disappeared first.”

 

There was a pause.

 

“Oh no. He's turned up in Mexico city!” Miguel said, eyes widening with realisation. “Everyone turns up where they died. He died far from home. We have to find him!”

 

Elena sighed and reached for the phone.

 

Naturally, the drunken llama of a man was going to have an inconveniently hard time getting home.

 

-0-

 

Héctor patted himself down in disbelief.

 

He was alive?

 

He had hands?

 

He had skin?

 

He had a lot of skin actually. Waking up face down in the garbage, wearing only his underwear, was by far the most underwhelming experience of his new life. He hoped. It was hard to imagine a lower point, to be honest.

 

At least he was starting from a low point. _It could only go up from here_ Héctor thought to himself, optimistically.

 

He staggered to his feet, and tried to get his bearings, but nothing at all was familiar. He wandered to the end of the alley and was struck by so much sound and noise and colour and movement. What the hell was this place? The colours were blurring for him and he suddenly felt dizzy. He really wanted to go back to sleep, and he swayed unsteadily on his feet. He felt so cold. Suddenly a van slammed to a halt near him, and a uniformed man got out. He was at Héctor 's elbow holding him steady.

 

“Yo, guy. You're okay.” He said.

 

Héctor nodded his thanks at the stranger.

 

“So, I'm guessing you were you recently dead but now just woken up to find yourself alive again?” The man suddenly asked, apropos of nothing.

 

Héctor started at him, gobsmacked. He nodded.

 

“We got a fresh one!” The man called over his shoulder, and then he started to guide Héctor towards the van. “ I'm officer Peralta. I'm here to help you. Come with me. We'll get you some clothes and a good meal. Take it easy. I've heard coming back to life is rough.”

 

“How did you know I used to be dead?”

 

“You're standing around in your underwear near stab street, looking _dead on your feet._..geddit?”

 

Héctor made a face at him.

 

“I mean looking confused.” Officer Peralta corrected. “I'm guessing mugging gone wrong is how you died?” Peralta said as they got into the van.

 

“Actually, it was artistic differences.” Héctor corrected him.

 

When inside the van, Peralta pulled out a what looked like a flatter, smaller version of those devil boxes Imelda hated. He was muttering about paperwork, and how there were so many dead people popping up, and he may as well put Héctor in the system now, what with bureaucracy being what it is, and backlogs and understaffing, and no one knew what was happening with the stupid Zombie situation, and they should probably create their own department just to deal with this mess. He finished this long and inexplicable monologue, shrugging “You know what I mean?”

 

Héctor just nodded. In truth, he had no idea what Officer Peralta meant, but nodding felt like the safe answer. Officer Peralta pressed a few buttons before returning his gaze to Héctor.

 

“So, what's your name?”

 

“Héctor Rivera.”

 

“Do you know your date of death?”

 

“Yes. Dec 7, 1921.”

 

Officer Peralta looked up from the flat devil box. “Well, that's a while ago. What was your age at that time?”

 

“21.”

 

Officer Peralta gave a low whistle. “Yikes. Tough break kid. You died young! Your murderer even stripped you down, that sucks.” He stated the bleeding obvious. Héctor wasn't sure what he was meant to say in response to this statement.

 

“Yes. That wasn't very pleasant.” Héctor tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Of course being murdered, then stripped down and abandoned in an alleyway had sucked. “What happens now?”

 

“Well there's a lot of you newly re-animated folks about.” Officer Peralta said, and then looked back at his devil box screen, muttering to himself “This is a terrible city. There's been so much murder. No one should live here.”

 

There was a long and awkward silence following this pronouncement.

 

“Anyway, we're taking you to the processing centre. You'll get clothes, food, be able to sleep.”

 

Sleep sounded really good. Héctor had never wanted to sleep more in his entire life.

 

“ Do you have any family or friends we can contact?”

 

“Yes!” Héctor said feeling his heart lift. He wasn't sure how long this 'being alive again' thing would last for, but if he was alive he could see Coco again! He had been waiting so long. He could finally make it home and give her the biggest hug. Héctor knew there'd be a bright side.

 

“Good. What's their contact information?”

 

“They live in Santa Cecilia.”

 

Peralta typed something into the devilbox, then gave a low whistle.

 

“Wow, down in Oaxaca. You _are_ a long way from home, amigo. Alright, what's the address?”

 

“From the plaza you walk straight for a bit, then take the third right, then it's on the left.” Héctor said, giving directions. This was apparently not the right answer.

 

“Okay. Let's try again. Is there a landline phone number?”

 

“What?”

 

“Do you know the home phone number? Or anyone's mobile phone number?”

 

“What's a mobile phone number?”

 

Officer Peralta blinked, looked at the devilbox screen and sighed. “Oh right, dead since the 20s. That's not good. That's going to make it a bit harder to get you back to your family. We'll have to wait for them to come looking for you.”

 

 

-0-

 

Elena called the line for the Mexico city “re-animated” division. She was on hold for a very long time. Miguel grew impatient and pressed the button for speaker mode, so he could better listen in. Cheery, tinkly, extremely annoying music played in the kitchen.

 

“No music!” Elena snapped, out of habit.

 

Goodness this tune was irritating! It made her want to reinstate the music ban.

 

Eventually a harried female voice answered. Elena relayed the situation of their missing Héctor , with Miguel frequently interrupting to provide more “crucial details”.

 

“Hold on a minute. Peralta, it sounds like someone is calling for your lost giraffe.” The woman called out. “Officer Peralta will be with you in a moment. Hold please.”

 

The irritating music continued for what felt like an age before an extremely tired voice echoed the kitchen. It had taken Officer Peralta much more than a moment to answer the phone, but Elena felt like it would be churlish to point this out. They had to explain the whole situation _again._

 

“That sounds like Héctor .” Officer Peralta sighed in a very long suffering fashion.

 

Goodness, what had this musician done to make poor officer Peralta sound that exasperated. Was he really that frustrating?

 

“I have to inform you that Héctor left some time ago. I _told_ him to just be patient. What's wrong with waiting a little longer when you've already been waiting for a hundred years? But the damn fool left just just under an hour ago with some others. Dead people, goodness me. They're the worst. _So impatient,_ rushing off to see their families. Don't they know they'll get home faster if they just wait for processing.”

 

Elena spared a glance at Victoria. She had done the exact same thing, and fled that hospital rather than wait. She and Héctor had that impulsive restlessness in common.

 

Miguel was now asking Officer Peralta to go out and look for Héctor , and had received a rather long, and apologetic spiel about being swamped and understaffing. He said “We'll keep an eye out for him. But he was pretty determined to go home. I imagine he's on his way down to Oaxaca by now.”

 

-0-

 

“I just want to see my baby girl.” Carmen was saying. She'd worked in the Department of Family Reunions. She'd died thirty years ago. Rare complications during childbirth.

 

“I just want to see my baby girl too.” Héctor replied. He knew it wasn't a competition, but still.

 

“I don't have a baby girl. But I still want out.” Six-fingered Pedro chimed in. Six-fingered Pedro hadn't elaborated much about himself, but he had hint vaguely enough at a violent criminal past that Carmen and Héctor had both stopped asking question.

 

“We can't wait for the bureaucracy. I used to work for the bureaucracy! They'll have use waiting here until my baby girl's sixith birthday, if they can.”

 

Carmen had a plan. It involved using six-fingered Pedro's “skills”, and Héctor causing a distraction with the borrowed and damaged guitar Peralta had acquired for him.

 

“Is there anything I can get for you to make the wait easier? Something to pass the time.” Peralta had asked Héctor just this morning. He'd been trying to make amends after he made that quip about Héctor already waiting nearly 100 years. Héctor always tried to laugh off anything and everything, but that joke had made him feel so _bad_ he couldn't hide it.

 

“A guitar would be nice. I used to be a musician. ”

 

Television made Héctor dizzy. He'd tried reading the books, but the words wouldn't stay still on the page for him. But when he was alive, and the world got him down, he had played his guitar. He could do it blindfolded. Peralta had emerged with the chipped and out of tune instrument, giving Héctor a little shrug. “Sorry, this was the best I could do.”

 

Peralta hadn't need to apologise. Héctor had never been so happy to have a guitar in his life (or death). Everything else was strange and scary, but music was familiar.

 

Héctor felt a little guilty about leaving. It wasn't so bad. He'd been fed, and given some clothes (ill-fitting and mismatching, but Héctor wasn't going to look gift clothes in the mouth). Peralta had been encouraging him to wait. Saying, _I'm sure it won't be long now. Someone from your family will probably come looking for you._

 

It wasn't Officer Peralta's fault. He didn't know that no one in Héctor's family had ever come looking for him, ever. Ernesto had left him for dead. Imelda had assumed he'd run out on her. None of his living relatives had known anything about him until last year.

 

They never came to get Héctor . He was always the one trying to get back to them.

 

Why should now be any different?

 

Héctor caused a distraction. Pedro did his thing. Carmen bossed them around. They acquired a police automobile, which they quickly swapped for another automobile, and then a third. Pedro certainly did have “skills.” They drove south. They had planned on dropping Carmen off first. But when they got to her daughter's door, Carmen froze. She refused to leave the car. She started heavy breathing, and was clearly very emotional.

 

Pedro was obviously a hardened criminal with one true weakness; _crying women._ He didn't know what to do with a crying women. Crying women terrified him. He announced that he was going for a cigarette, got out of the car and walked a long way down the road.

 

Héctor rubbed soothing circles on Carmen's back, while she cried. That made her cry more, so he pulled her to his chest, and gave her a cuddle, like he would have with Coco, if he had been alive when she was grown up and in distress. “Ssshhh, Little one. It's okay.”

 

This was the wrong thing to say. Carmen pulled away abruptly.

 

“ _You're_ calling _me_ little one? Aren't you a teenager?” she was a little indignant.

 

“I just died young. I'm actually a lot older than you. I'll have you know I am very mature and responsible.” Héctor said, waggling his eyebrows. It made her laugh, a weak teary chuckle. Good, Héctor had been hoping to cheer her up.

 

“Do you want to tell me what's wrong?” he offered.

 

“I have been wanting to see her, my baby girl, to talk to her, for thirty years.” Carmen said hesitantly. “I want to be with her so bad. But what if she doesn't....?” Carmen trailed off.

 

“Doesn't what?”

 

“What if she doesn't want me? She's thirty years old now. She's all grown up. She has a baby of her own. She doesn't need a mother.”

 

“I'm one hundred and eighteen and I still need my mother around.” Héctor said simply.

 

“You still look like a teenager to me.” Carmen said, eyebrows raised.

 

Héctor gave a rueful shrug. Victoria always teased him about how young he looked. He'd gotten used to it.

 

“My point is, my mother died when I was born too. I always wondered about her. I never knew her, but I would have liked the chance to get to know her. I would have liked that very much. Your daughter will want to meet you.”

 

Carmen nodded, absorbing his words.

 

“Your daughter will love you. I know she will.” Héctor said, reaching over her and opening the car door. “You just have to give her the chance.”

 

“Thank you, Héctor.” Carmen said, and she stepped out to meet her family.

 

-0-

 

It was 3:30 am in the morning, and Elena was awake. She had never been one to party until dawn, but her sister was here. Victoria was at her most alert during the small hours of the morning. It was an added quirk of coming back from the dead. Elena had taken to staying awake just to have better conversations with her sister.

 

Somehow, between the tea and the tequila, they'd gotten onto the subject of Victoria's return. They hadn't spoken of it in detail. Elena imagined it was a difficult subject for Victoria. She never asked any hard questions. But tonight Victoria was drinking tequila and letting it all hang out.

 

“I thought he would be with me, at least, that crazy lummox. When my skeleton dissolved into petals before my eyes, I thought to myself _at least Héctor 's coming down with me_.”

 

“What was it like?” Elena asked, infinitely curious.

 

“Oh Elena, it was awful. We saw it coming, but we never suspected. People have been disappearing for days beforehand, but you know what you do, you dismiss it and say to yourself this will never effect me....” Victoria trailed off here and toyed with her glass.

 

“ We were walking down the hill from our shop to the central plaza, when I heard it. That _poof,_ that explosion of flower petals. It was like a wave coming down the hill. People were disappearing above us.”

 

The “event”. She was talking about the 'event' and how it had seemed from the otherside.

 

“Héctor was a little bit above me, on the hill. He'd been walking hand in hand with Mama Imelda. It happened to him first. I think he knew he would disappear, because he reached out to Mama Imelda. He was yelling “ _no, I don't want to go”_ and she reach back for him and tried to grab a hold of him, – but _poof,_ he vanished right before us. The last thing I remember seeing is Mama Imelda crying and clutching the empty air, before I felt it happening to me.”

 

Victoria poured herself another shot, downed it, and toyed with her glass. “ I hope you never experience it, my sister, your own body dissolving into petals. It's not comfortable..” she said after a long moment.

 

“ You're here now. I'll make sure you're comfortable.” Elena said, covering her sister's long thin hand with her own.

 

“ Thanks.” Victoria said as she downed another shot.

 

They were quiet for a while.

 

“He's going to be a hot mess when he gets here. Héctor .” Victoria observed, breaking the silence.

 

Elena had always assumed he would be a hot mess in general, and now Victoria was confirming it. She made a face. Victoria made a face back at her.

 

“I know what we were taught about him when we were kids, and I know what you think of him, but you'll need to take care of him too. Don't be rude to him when he gets here.” Victoria said diffidently.

 

“How is he going to get here? He could be dead in a ditch for all we know. _Again._ ” Elena sassed, not liking that Victoria was implying that Elena would be less than hospitable to her own family.

 

“If I know Héctor , he won't ever give up on getting back home, and he's a pretty resourceful kid.”

 

“He's actually your grandfather. He's not a child.”

 

“He bloody well looks like one. He's the baby of the family on the otherside, you know. He hates when I point this out. ” Victoria chuckled to herself, at some in-joke Elena could only guess at.

 

“Well, baby or not, his actions ruined this family.” Elena said, feeling defensive. She didn't know much about him, only that he walked out on his family. She was right to dislike him for that alone.

 

“Just wait until you meet him before you pass judgement. He's hard not to like.”

 

“Says you. I have not liked many musicians in my time!”

 

“True.”

 

 

-0-

 

Pedro had been a fairly new arrival in the land of the dead. He'd died when he was thirty two. He'd only been dead three years. He was keen on driving south, because he had a “score to settle”. Héctor didn't ask any more questions.

 

Pedro had tried to teach Héctor to drive the automobile, so they could share the driving. But after 10 hair-raising, terrifying, screaming and swearing filled minutes, he had given up. Héctor had been regulated to a passenger.

 

Pedro had decided if that if he wasn't going to teach Héctor to drive, he was going to teach him how to survive the modern world. He was giving Héctor a lot of tips on how to be “street smart” in the modern world. He evidentially felt Héctor was lacking in this department.

 

That was a fair call.

 

There was a lot of rules. Advice about money clips, how to assault people while making the most of his slight frame and the fact that he obviously had almost no upper body strength (hey! True – but hey!) There was advice about how to punch out tail-lights on various automobile models, in case Héctor ever got locked in the trunk of a car. At their last stop before parting, they had a big conversation about hitch-hiking.

 

“Don't hitch-hike with weirdos. Don't fall asleep in the car. People get killed when the fall asleep in the car.”

 

“How does sleeping kill them?”

 

“Damn Héctor, you're naïve. If the person giving you a lift is a psychopath – they will drive you into the desert to have their _wicked way_ with you, then kill you horribly, then bury you in a shallow grave and no one ever knows.”

 

Héctor blanched. Pedro seemed to remember belatedly that Héctor had also been killed by a psychopath, buried in a shallow grave and his family hadn't known.

 

Héctor pointed out that at least Ernesto hadn't had his _wicked way_ with Héctor – that was a small blessing. “As far as you know!” Pedro replied, cheekily. “Who knows what he did with your body.”

 

Héctor knew his face was now much more expressive. His face must have very clearly displayed a combination of disgust, panic and morbid curiosity.

 

“Okay. Don't freak out. But here's a new rule. Don't get a ride with psychos. And keep this on you.” Pedro handed Héctor a switch blade. It had his initials engraved on it. Pedro had obviously had it on him when he was murdered. Fat lot of good it had done him, in the end.

 

“I'm not good at knowing when someone is a psychopath. I'd never stab anyone.” Héctor said, handing the blade back. It was Pedro's. He had unfinished business down south. His life was way more dangerous that Héctor's, on the whole. Héctor wasn't going to take his knife from him.

 

Héctor knew now that Ernesto, (His brother! His best friend!) had been a psychopathic murder, but he had never guessed when he was alive. Never suspected. Héctor had trusted Ernesto, and for that he'd been murdered when he was only 21. Still, Héctor didn't know if he could bring himself to stab anyone. He wasn't a violent man.

 

“Héctor . You need a knife more than me. You're too trusting. You try to see the _good in people._ ” Pedro scoffed, as if this was the most ridiculous thing anyone had ever said. “Trying stabbing a bitch for a change. It will will feel good.”

 

Héctor shook his head.

 

Pedro took the switchbalde back, folded it and put in in his pocket. “Listen, _muchacho_ – there's a processing centre in the next town. I could drop you off and...” he started to say.

 

“No. I'm not _waiting._ I want to get home and see my family. We don't know how long we're back for, and I need to see my Coco!”

 

Pedro sighed and looked away. “Fine, seeing your Coco it is. But let me help you flag down the next ride.”

 

Pedro helped him flag down a ride. They went through many automobiles and trucks before Pedro was satisfied. It was a large truck. But Pedro had climbed in and had a quick conversation with the driver.

 

“He's a music lover, not a psychopath. I told him you're an award winning guitar player. He's going down the 190. He can drop you off near the exit for Santa Cecilia. After that it is up to you, _muchacho_. I got you as close as I could.”

 

-0-

 

“You a fan?” The driver asked when Héctor was mid-song.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Are you an Ernesto De La Cruz Fan? You obviously like his work. You know all the songs.”

 

“The songs are good.” Héctor said, trying for a passive tone. That much at least was true. His songs were good. Good enough to kill for, according to Ernesto.

 

“I guess it's hard isn't it, to admit to being a fan now, with all that murder and plagiarism stuff going round.” the Driver said, and Héctor's fingers stilled on the guitar. “I, for one, think it's a big conspiracy. How much money is that family making now they've got the rights to all the songs? And I hear that kid wants to be a musician too. I think there's something _fishy_ there. What do you think?”

 

Héctor fiddled with the strings and surveyed his options. That was _his family_ the man was casting aspersion about. His Miguel. But then he remembered Pedro's advice about psychopaths, and not getting murdered. He didn't know much about this man except that he was still an Ernesto De La Cuz supporter, despite everything.

 

That enough was pretty damning.

 

He could turn off the road, and take Héctor to a secondary location (Pedro had been very adamant about the danger of secondary locations.) Héctor was so close to Coco. He didn't want to get murdered (again!) when he was so close. So he did what he always did, and shrugged it off.

 

“I just think the songs are good, _Muchacho_. I don't know anything about that murder stuff.”

 

He'd be dropped off at the next intersection. He just had to keep the driver sweet until then. Héctor could walk to Santa Cecila from there. Granted, it would be a long, long way. But walking the distance was better than risking being stuck in a car with a psychopath, or even worse with a De La Cruz fan.

 

-0-

 

Elena was woken by a knocking at the door. It was ridiculously early in the morning. She was the first one down. She flung the door open. Before her stood a scrawny, scraggly 21 year old with a hopeful face, an old guitar and no shoes.

 

 _Just wait until you meet him before you pass judgement_ Victoria had said a few nights ago, and Elena said she would.

 

But oh, Héctor did make it difficult not to judge him.

 

His hair was a mess. He was too thin by far. He was so skinny it made his clothes look almost comically large on him. The T-shirt swamped him. It looked like it would be better suited as a tent. The jeans were held up by a piece of string that had been fashioned into a belt. He was shivering the early morning air. No jacket. _No shoes!_ His feet were ridiculously dirty. He had huge, dark circles under his eyes, (worse than Victoria's). It was as though he hadn't slept properly since he had been re-animated.

 

Elena looked at the youth quite severely. Héctor offered her a rueful, lopsided smile and gave a little dorky wave in response.

 

“You must be Elena. I'm Héctor .”

 

Elena stared at him, arms folded, until it became awkward.

 

 _This_ was that man? _This_ was the musician who ruined the family? _This_ was the man who had driven Mama Imelda crazy? _This_ was the man she adored, the man who had broken her heart when he left? Mama Imelda had _weird taste_ in guys.

 

“So, eerr, I'm actually your grandfather. Not a weird stranger, knocking on your door at four am. Well, I guess we've never met properly. And I did just knock on your door....and it is four am....and I ...”

 

“I know who you are.” Elena's tone was clipped, bordering on rude.

 

Héctor looked a little crestfallen at her abrupt tone. He looked like a kicked street-dog, like that one Miguel was always feeding. Something in his sad face made pity wiggle in her stomach.

 

“Well, you may as well come in and let me make you some breakfast.” She opened the door to him. “We need to get some meat on your bones. You're too skinny.” She scolded, as he walked past. Héctor babbled gratefully at her and stepped into their home for the first time in 97 years.

 

This boy needed so much more than a good feed. Elena didn't even know where to start. A list was rapidly compiling in her head – a list of what this boy needed before she could probably bear to be related to him.

 

The Riveras had standards, after all!

 

-0-

 

What Héctor needed:

 

  * A bath,

  * A rest,

  * A good meal,

  * Clothes that actually fit him,

  * New shoes, (A Rivera – without shoes! How disgraceful!)

  * More common sense,

  * A good smack upside the head,

  * And to shut up.

 




-0-

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome! I hope you enjoyed it. I have only just discovered Coco and fell in love. Oh Pixar, you just know my buttons. I took a deep dive into an obsessive tumblr hole immediately after watching this beautiful incredible movie. I stumbled across this enchanting idea in a lovely thread by Loracarol and white-throated-packrat, and I just wanted to write my own take on it. 
> 
> This story will focus more on Héctor and Elena's developing understanding of each other - because I am here for family bonding. Imelda's and Héctor's relationship will feature in this fic, and will colour the interactions between Héctor and Elena. Héctor because he loves Imelda so much, and Elena because she has the utmost respect for her grandmother. Elena is really the physical embodiment of the music ban and the family's rejection of Héctor. But Héctor isn't at all who she thought he would be. I felt like there was the possibility for heart-warming family hilarity. So I ran with the idea. 
> 
> Mama Coco is still alive in my fic. 
> 
> It is set now (Early December, 2018).
> 
> There are a few Brooklyn 99 shout outs.
> 
> Also Pedro's "street smarts" rant is inspired by John Mulaney talking about that stranger/danger guy. The one who looked like he should have driven a locomotive fueled by confetti, but instead made his living in murder. That guy.


	2. You, and all your vibrant youth.

-0-

 

Victoria came down as soon as Elena let Héctor in. She immediately gave him an enormous hug. It had struck Elena as strange, because her sister had never been that cuddly in life. “I'm glad you're here.” Victoria had whispered to him, but Elena still heard. She pretended she hadn't because Victoria was smiling widely now. Elena could tell she was feeling less alone, now she was not the only _re-animated_ person in the household.

They both followed her into the kitchen and watched as Elena began to brew a large pot of coffee.

Elena could clearly see the family resemblance now that they were standing next to each other; they had the same bone structure and tall, lanky frame. (They have no clothes that properly fit either of these two giraffes. Elena would have to take them both shopping.) Victoria looked like she could have been Héctor's mother.

This was something that amused her greatly. She never failed to it point out, apparently. Victoria made a steady succession of sarcastic comments about what had taken her kiddo so long (also several comments about Héctor's outfit in general). He sassed something back at her. It made her laugh.

Héctor retold the story of his journey home – starting with waking up in his underwear in a back-end alley in the dodgy part of Mexico City. It didn't sound like a pleasant experience, but from the way Héctor told it, this was the most hilarious thing to happen to anyone, ever.

Héctor can make Victoria laugh. A lot. Elena finds this interesting. Their laughs are actually really similar, and Elena finds this worrying.

They have more in common than having the same bone structure, the same laugh and a tendency towards impatience. They both have the same way of sighing in frustration, and then running their hands through their hair. They both tuck one arm under their elbow then gesture wildly when they are making a point. They drum their fingers on the side of their coffee cups to the exact same beat.

Did Mama Imelda notice?

Was that why she was always so much harder on Victoria when they were both girls? Did Victoria remind her of Héctor? Mama Imelda was adamantly against Victoria's tendency to have her head in the clouds. Sometimes Mama Imelda had been overly harsh towards her sister. Elena hadn't like it, but she had also never said anything in defence of her sister either.

 

-0-

 

“Héctor !” Miguel had yelled excitedly from the top of the stairs when he had woken up that morning. His enthusiasm would have woken everyone else up to, but Miguel wasn't bothered by this. Miguel had practically flung himself down the stairs towards Héctor. Héctor, with a speed Elena envied, got up from his seat, rushed over and caught the boy in his arms.

 

“Miguel, don't jump at me like that when you know I am holding coffee. I wasn't ready.” Héctor said as he scooped Miguel up again and the boy laughed. Making the boy laugh really undermined Héctor's scolding Elena thought. It would only encourage Miguel.

 

“I knew you would catch me!”

 

“I would, but I still want my coffee first before you try that again.”

 

“ _Don't_ try it again Miguel!” Elena scolded. Elena scolded properly. She was a champion scolder. She had _a face_ for it and everything. “Héctor's has had a long trip and doesn't need any of your nonsense.”

 

“No, it's okay Elena. I don't mind nonsense,” Héctor started to say. Elena made her _scolding face_ at him and he blanched. “... No I mean, you're right. No _nonsense_ Miguel.” Héctor said, and waggled his finger in an exaggerated fashion.

 

Miguel was going to take no notice of this and engage in nonsense anyway. Elena just knew it.

 

“Miguel, I love you but I don't have the energy for you now.” Victoria had announced and wandered back to her room to sleep.

 

Despite the similarities between Victoria and Héctor, this was a stark differences. Victoria had no problem yawning in people's faces, announcing she was tired and didn't want to talk any more and then abruptly leaving the conversation to have a nap. Héctor would apparently rather eat his own arm than be rude like that to Miguel. (It was often Miguel's conversations that Victoria walked out on).

 

A few more bleary eyed members of the family had drifted in at this point, woken by Miguel's enthusiasm. Miguel started talking about how worried they had been and asking Héctor all manner of questions; Where had he woken up? How had he gotten here? What took him so long?

 

Héctor, aware of his audience, told a much more child-friendly version of his tale of woe. Elena was glad he had at least that much sense, and hadn't mentioned details about parading around in his underwear or what he had speculated about Pedro's real occupation or any of the foul language that had passed between him and Pedro during the failed driving lesson. Elena had been planning on kicking him in his shins with her heavy soled boots if he had let those details slip.

 

Miguel was beyond delighted that the musician was in their home. He kept babbling so much at Héctor about what had happened since they'd last seen each other. Barely anyone else could get a word in edgewise, beyond brief introductions.

 

Héctor, though he looked like a drowned alpaca that had washed up on an unlikely shore after surviving a particularly brutal shipwreck, tried his best to focus on Miguel and listen to what he was saying. Héctor never let on that he was fatigued. Though he couldn't fool Elena. He had the same tells as Victoria – if not her perchance for leaving conversations abruptly.

 

Elena wondered how long Héctor would fight his obvious exhaustion before he excused himself for a nap. After more than half an hour of watching him stifle yawns and slump further, she intervened. She reminded Miguel that it was a school day and he needed to go get ready.

 

“Aaaawww, but I want to play with Héctor.”

 

“Héctor will be here when you get back, but he needs some rest now. Can't you see you're tiring him out?”

 

“It's okay, Elena, I don't mind listening to ….”

 

Elena shot Héctor her _scolding face_ again. Couldn't the fool see she was trying to help him.

 

“... I was planning on staying awake until Coco gets up anyway. And I like hearing what Miguel has been doing.” Héctor offered hesitantly, after a moment.

 

Elena raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. _Idiot musician._

 

“Well, it's still a school day!” Elena barked. “Go get ready Miguel, or you'll be late.”

 

-0-

 

Héctor walked the children to school with Luisa and Dante. Luisa told Héctor that the dog had been unofficially adopted by the family – even though Elena chose to ignore him, or call him that street mongrel.

 

Luisa had smiled kindly at Héctor, and then she had invited him to walk to school with them, so they could 'get to know each other'. Héctor had walked all the way to the house from the highway last night, but he couldn't refuse an offer like that. His Coco was still asleep, and he had wanted to spend more time with Miguel.

 

Miguel was the only family member who was really welcoming Héctor aside from Victoria. Elena had made a lot of frowning faces at him, and no one else in the family seemed to know how to react to him. Héctor wanted to put them at ease, but he didn't really _know_ them.

 

Miguel had talked most of the way to school, while his sister, Little Coco, dozed in her pram. Rosa was also friendly, in a hesitant and shy kind of way. Her twin brothers had been running rampant. Héctor had held both their hands to stop them dashing away from their big sister. He swung their little arms in big swinging motions and sang some silly made-up songs with them - the sort of songs that Coco had always liked. They giggled, stopped trying to run off, and had stuck to Héctor like glue for the rest of the walk.

 

On the way back, Luisa talked to him about the family and tried to help him keep track of who was who. She was not his blood relative. She had married Enrique, who was Elena's youngest son and Miguel's father. He was the one who had lent Héctor some jeans and a different T-shirt, which had been a drastic improvement.

 

The jeans were far too short for Héctor, but they were miles better than the first pair of pants. Those pants had been big enough to fit _three_ Héctors, after all, and he'd had to use string to make a belt for them. Elena had refused to let him leave the house wearing them. She had scolded him and saying “The Riveras have _standards!_ You can't go wandering around like some hobo and _bring shame_ upon us again.”

 

Héctor hoped Elena wasn't still angry at him when they got back. But when they arrived, she was standing at the door, wringing her hands on her apron. “Mama is awake, if you want to see her.” She announced briskly, then turned and walked into the house. “I'm warning you now though, she hasn't been well. She may not know who you are.” Héctor nodded in understanding, and followed Elena eagerly, heart in his mouth.

 

His Coco.

 

After all this time.

 

He'd finally get to see his Coco again. Even if she didn't recognise him, he'd still get to _see_ her.

 

Héctor pushed the door open nervously. Coco was an old lady, sitting cozy in her bed. Elena had tucked the blanket around her shoulders. She was looking vaguely out the window. Héctor knocked gently, not wanting to startled her. Coco turned. Her smile grew slowly, then all at once, it became a huge grin. It was just the same way she used to smile when she had been a little girl. She recognised him instantly.

 

“PAPA!” she cried out, sounding surprised and excited.

 

Héctor ran to her. He knelt on the ground next to her bed and threw his arms around her, giving her the biggest hug. He tried to hug her gently, because he knew she was an old woman now. Elena had lectured him about how frail she'd become, and told him he shouldn't over-tire or over-excite his Coco. Still he held her so close to his chest, to his heart.

 

“Coco, my Coco. I love you so much.” Héctor was saying over and over again. He hadn't been able to tell her for nearly 100 years, but she had still waited for him. She had remembered him. He was home. He had finally made it. He had been trying to get home to Coco for what felt like an eternity.

 

“Papa. You're home. You were gone a long time.” Coco sounded almost giddy with happiness. Héctor felt her wrinkled arms come around him, and she squeezed him back. It made the tangled and tightly knotted thing in Héctor's heart and soul begin to relax.

 

“Sorry it took me so long, my Coco.”

 

“ You came back.” her voice was full of wonder, like she didn't quite believe it.

 

“I did come back. I have spent so long trying to come home to you. Thank you for remembering me.”

 

Héctor was crying, but Coco was crying too. She pulled away to look at his face. She put her hands on either side of his cheeks, to catch his tears. It was a mirror of the gesture she had done when he had sung his lullaby to her the first time, back in the autumn of 1921. Her hands were larger and more gnarled with aged, but for an instant Héctor felt like he was back in that sunlight room.

 

“I had to. It was our song.” Coco replied seriously.

 

-0-

 

Elena turned from the door to wipe her eyes, and squash down the lump in her throat. Now she was crying too! That _fool musician,_ making everybody cry.

 

Elena had said to herself that she wasn't going to go soft – she was just going too check to make sure that _fool musician_ didn't try anything foolish, like upset her poor mother. But then Mama Coco's face had lit up as soon as she saw her Papa.

 

She knew him. Her mother had recently started not remembering Elena again. After so long of seeming a little better, her mother had started slipping back into the fog. She didn't know her own daughter, but she knew Héctor. He hadn't aged a day since she had last seen him after all.

 

Oh dear. That was probably going to be confusing for her. Mama Coco probably wouldn't understand why her Papa was so young and she was so old. She just thought he'd come back home. She probably thought she was a little girl again.

 

Elena checked on them throughout the morning. Héctor made Coco an Oaxaca hot chocolate, just the way she liked it. Mama Coco drank it all. He got the old guitar out at some point. He was playing songs for Mama Coco. He played songs she knew, songs she liked – the songs from her childhood. She'd clap and say “Again! Again!”in this delighted, girlish voice that Elena had not heard in _years._

 

Then it was lunchtime. Héctor fed Mama Coco patiently, saying things like “Open up for me. There's a good girl.” For the first time in weeks, Mama Coco ate the whole bowl without fuss, because she wanted to make her Papa happy.

 

She off her food lately, and Elena had been worried. But Mama Coco would eat for Héctor. Héctor helped Elena care for her, clean her up and tuck her into bed. He sang her a lullabye, then pulled the covers up over her.

 

“Rest now, Coco. Have a sweet dream.” Héctor leaned over and kissed her wrinkled forehead, and Mama Coco sighed contently.

 

“I knew you'd come back Papa. You'll be here when I wake up, won't you?” she asked. She sounded like a worried little girl.

 

“I will. I'm not going anywhere.” Héctor reassured her.

 

Mama Coco was satisfied at that, and settled down into sleep.

 

Mama Coco had gotten confused when Elena had come in and she'd seen the age difference between her daughter and her father. But Mama Coco had always been very easy going and had taken it in her stride today.

 

Aside from that, Mama Coco had a _good_ morning. It was the first _good_ morning in a long time. She'd seemed much more alert and clearer with her father home. She'd seemed happier too. If only for that, Elena would happily tolerate Héctor, _fool musician_ that he was.

 

The _fool musician_ was actually very good at taking care of her, Elena thought begrudgingly. At least he was good for something. If he actually stuck around for once, and helped Elena with feeding her, Mama Coco might get a bit more of her strength back; a bit more of her old spark.

 

Elena gestured for Héctor to follow her down the hall to the room she had made up for him. Victoria had taken the guestroom (in all fairness she had arrived first), and Elena had improvised. It had been an old storeroom, but she'd cleaned it out and made up a bed. She'd tried to make it as nice as she could. She'd placed a toothbrush, a small soap and a folded towel on the bed, and gave Héctor a meaningful look. _Use these_ – the look said. Then she'd nodded towards the bathroom.

 

“ You need to get some sleep too, Héctor.” Elena said severely.

 

He hadn't slept since sometime yesterday by Elena's calculations. He needed to rest. The fool had never learned how to take care of himself, it appeared.

 

He had as much common sense as a dolphin wearing knee-pads.

 

-0-

 

Their two re-animated guests settled into the household rhythm. They both still had irregular sleeping schedules. After that first ridiculous morning, Héctor stopped being as ridiculous (he was still ridiculous, but it was a moderated ridiculousness that Elena could live with).

 

Héctor would join Victoria in going to sleep at unlikely times and locations. He still tried to stay awake to see Miguel before and after school, and spend the day with Mama Coco, but it was without that same stubbornness as the first morning.

 

As soon as those two giraffes were both awake at the same time, Elena took them shopping to get them both clothes. The couldn't keep borrowing from Enrique and Gloria.

 

The shopping experience took much longer than Elena had anticipated, simply because everything was _so fascinating_ for Héctor. The supermarket blew his mind. Her quick grocery shop took over two hours. Vending Machines, the bubble-making machine outside a toy shop, the woman busking on the street, the man selling a gadget called “the nicer-dicer-plus” that Elena had seen advertised on TV – all these things required Héctor's immediate and close inspection.

 

“Just let him have a turn, Elena – then he'll get it out of his system and we can move on with our lives.” Victoria sighed, evidentially used to Héctor's enthusiasm for everything.

 

“Fine. _One turn,_ but then we are really going!”

 

The charlatan selling the gadget set it up with an onion for Héctor to chop, so he could see how it worked. Héctor moved the handle and then made a little surprised noise as the entire onion fell into the container, evenly and perfectly diced.

 

“Look Elena– Look at how much it has chopped the onion! Now we never need to cry when we make dinner.” Héctor said, proudly showing Elena. “This machine is incredible.”

 

“He's doing your job for you, he is.” Victoria remarked dryly to the charlatan as she rolled her eyes.

 

“How much is this gadet, _amigo_?” Héctor asked.

 

The charlatan told him.

 

Héctor gasped, looked supremely offended, and put the gadget back down gently before taking a huge step back. “Ridiculous – what do I look like? The king of Prussia!” He strode off.

 

Elena wondered if she should tell him that Prussia didn't have a king....because it wasn't even a country any more.

 

“I always believe in negotiating a price – but that man was ridiculous. He started so high! You can't start _that_ high if you want to make a sale....” Héctor was ranting about the appropriate way to haggle. Even though he only looked twenty-one years old, Elena had to remind herself that Héctor had been born in 1900, and probably had no idea about inflation.

 

Inflation – _someone_ would have to tell Héctor about inflation so he didn't make a scene at every price-tag he came across.

 

Elena realised with some horror, that she was going to have to be that _someone._ Explaining economic principles had never been her strong suit, but she tried anyway – if only to save their little group the embarrassment of having to put up with Héctor's conniptions. After three graphs drawn on napkins and 20 minutes of Elena throwing out economic terms that she only vaguely understood herself, Héctor agreed to stop complaining about the price of things.

 

This was a lie.

 

“These jeans – they're worth what I would get for three months slaving away! This is three months worth of money! I could have kept Imelda and Coco well provided for with just these pants!” He complained indignantly, waving the jeans at Elena.

 

“Oh, you would have provided for them would you?” Elena scoffed sarcastically – and a little cruelly.

 

Victoria inhaled sharply, and busied herself with the racks of shirts.

 

Héctor's face fell. Elena knew she had hurt his feelings. Elena hadn't meant to be unkind, but she couldn't help it. She had been told for her entire life that _this man_ had abandoned his family and never looked back, all to go and pursue some stupid musical fantasy. Mama Imelda had to struggle so hard in those first years to build her business up. Hearing Héctor rant about providing for them needled Elena.

 

“I would have. If I hadn't died, I would have taken care of them.” His voice was softly insistent, filled with regret and longing.

 

Well, fat lot of good feeling regretful did for anyone.

 

“Oh, would you? You picked music over them, so you can't stand on your high horse now.”

 

“ No, I picked music _for_ them. I had hoped I could send enough back to help Imelda set up any kind of business she wanted.”

 

“Well, you didn't. She had to do it all herself, and with a child to raise on her own too.” Elena didn't see the point in dancing around the subject. She had always believed in being direct and speaking her mind. Though Mama Imelda had never really elaborated on those struggling early years, Elena knew it would have been horrible for her.

 

“ I didn't just _abandon_ them. It wasn't like I said “oh, I'm going down to the shops” and then ran out on them. My best friend _killed_ me when I tried to come home.” Héctor said, arms crossed, looking uncannily like Victoria when she was annoyed and defensive.

 

“Well, you still should not have left home in the first place.” Elena stated simply.

 

“It seemed like the best idea at the time.” Héctor's was looking down at his crossed arms, chastised, not meeting her furious gaze.

 

“Why on earth would leaving your family seem like a good idea?” Elena demanded.

 

This was the one thing in the story – the new story – that she had never wrapped her head around. If things between them had been so good, and they had been so in love, why had Héctor left Mama Imelda to begin with? He should have stayed home.

 

“I'd grown up with nothing. I was an orphan, you see. I was penniless. And Imelda came from a _good_ family. They hadn't approved of me at all.” He confessed in a small voice.

 

 _I can see why,_ Elena thought acidly.

 

“They'd wanted her to marry one of the more respectable businessmen in town, They refused to bless us, but she left home to be with me,... _she chose me._ ” Héctor still sounded surprised, even though he was re-telling something that had happened nearly 100 years ago. It was like the fact that Imelda had chosen to be with a penniless fool of a musician had never really sunk in for him.

 

“I just wanted to give her everything. I wanted to give Coco everything. I didn't want them to ever know poverty the way I did. Music was the one thing I was _really good at._ It paid the best.”

 

“Mama Imelda said you left to share your songs with the world.”

 

“That was one of the reasons, yes. But really, I did it so that I could make enough money to take care of my family.” He said, looking up and finally meeting her eyes.

 

 _Had he been wrong to do it ?_ Elena found herself traitorously wondering. She had never disagreed with Mama Imelda about anything. Elena never thought she'd agree with that fool musician in her entire life. She didn't want to start now. Mama Imelda had always maintained it was a mistake for her husband to leave to pursue what she had called a _stupid musical fantasy._

 

But it hadn't been stupid, not really.

 

Héctor was actually talented. His songs were very popular, even today. Elena thought of the Héctor Money, piling up in the bank account, and her comfortable and completely refurbished home. He'd provided _very well_ for her family when the truth about his songs had come out.

 

What if Héctor hadn't been murdered? If he had made it home, and managed to sell his songs....Mama Imelda would never have struggled miserably. They would have had more than enough money to be very comfortable together. Their lives would have been sweet and good.

 

“If I could go back and choose differently, believe me I would.” Héctor said and he sounded sincere.

 

Elena shook herself at his wistful words. There was no point in wondering _what if_ , or thinking about what might have been. Héctor _had_ been murdered, far from home. Mama Imelda _had_ felt abandoned and had struggled. The past was the past. There was no point dwelling on it.

 

“Well, you can't.” Elena said. Her voice wasn't scolding. It was sad.

 

Victoria interrupted their heated conversation by thrusting a fistful of shirts between them, saying “These are all in your size, Kiddo.”

 

Héctor protested at being called Kiddo, but took the shirts to try them on, like a good boy.

 

-0-

 

Things Elena had to put up with now that she had Héctor with living her family – a short list:

 

  * The noises Héctor made whenever he ate anything. Had nobody ever fed this boy properly?

 

  * Héctor's reaction to pizza. It was in her brain now.

 

  * Héctor's obsession with modern appliances like the washing machine, and refrigerator.

 

  * Héctor's inability to work modern appliances.

 

  * Héctor's persistence at pressing buttons until “CHILD LOCK” flashed on the mircowave screen.

 

  * Victoria's echoing laughter at the childlock fiasco.

 

  * Franco complaining endlessly as he dug through mountains of paperwork and old manuals in the office, looking for the microwave user manual so he could try and rectify the childlock fiasco.

 

  * Héctor constantly opening the refrigerator and trying to figure out how the fridge-light worked.

 

  * Héctor constantly trying to “help.”

 

  * Héctor constantly playing the guitar sadly after Elena had rebuffed him.

 

  * Constantly feeling the urge to smash the sad guitar.

 

  * The frequent, blinding flash from Miguel's camera.




 

 

-0-

 

Miguel was, to put it mildly, _ridiculously obsessed_ with taking Héctor's photograph.

 

That blasted camera that Elena had brought him for his last birthday was now flashing frequently. It flashed during dinner, during the walk to school, before her morning coffee, when he found Héctor dozing on the couch.

 

That was the only time Miguel had actually seemed to feel bad about his irritating habit – but only because the blinding flash and the accompanying noise had woken Héctor up with such a start that he'd tumbled off the couch. Héctor was all gangly arms and legs, and could barely fit on the couch as it was. The surprise flash had pushed him over the edge.

 

Elena now bitterly regretted buying Miguel this camera. She had just been glad Miguel asked for a present that wasn't music related.

 

“No more photos!” She commanded.

 

Miguel said it was really important for him to have lots of pictures of Héctor, just in case. Elena grilled him on why he was being so ridiculous, saying _In case of what?_ Miguel hadn't been able to elaborate properly. Despite all her scoldings, she still saw flickers of the flash and heard the whirring of the lens when Miguel thought she wasn't looking.

 

-0-

Berto had bought a new projector with the Héctor money for Gloria's birthday. They had started a new tradition and closed the shop a little early just so they could all enjoy a movie together. Tonight was their first movie night with their re-animated guests.

 

It had been Gloria's turn to choose. She'd picked _Home Alone_ because it was a nice Christmas time film, and she'd always liked watching criminals getting the stuffing knocked out of them by a small child. She had seen it so many times, and had never tired of it. However watching it with Héctor's running commentary – spoken softly to Victoria, but still audible to the entire family – was clearly not an experience she relished.

 

“This poor child. He's now all alone in the world. He thinks his family doesn't love him and he's been abandoned forever. His house is so empty and he is so lonely. He is pretending to have a good time, but really he is heartbroken on the inside. He must miss them so much.”

 

“Héctor, shut up and watch the movie.” Victoria snapped, to everyone's collective relief.

 

“Movies make me dizzy.”

 

“Well shut up then. Just try and enjoy it. It's meant to be funny.”

 

“What's funny about this whole family abandoning and forgetting about this boy, just because he is a little annoying? He thinks his family hates him and that they chose to leave him behind. And now these violent criminals are going to murder him and bury him in a shallow grave, and he'll never get to tell his family how much he loves them....”

 

“Shall we watch something else?” Elena said, getting up to turn _Home Alone_ off.

 

She couldn't take it any more. _Home Alone_ was only in it's 18th minute. It had a running time of 143 minutes. Elena couldn't put up with this for 143 minutes. She gave an apologetic glance at Gloria, and then turned to who was next on the list to choose. “Abel, you can choose.”

 

Abel looked beyond surprised. “You said I had a life-long ban from choosing the family movie after I tried to get everyone to watch _28 days later.”_

 

Oh. He was right. Elena had said that last time it had been Abel's turn, but she had forgotten.

 

“Yes, well, anyway. I'm giving you a second chance now.”

 

Abel looked incredibly panic-stricken at being given a surprise second chance. He was obviously unprepared and extremely keen not to screw up and annoy Elena again. He chose the most child-friendly and innocuous movie in their collection. _Finding Nemo._

 

 _Finding Nemo_ was also a mistake.

 

Héctor had _many emotions_ about recently widowed clownfish and their bumbling attempts at fatherhood. Emotions which he expressed loudly to Victoria. _Finding Nemo_ got switched off after only 12 minutes.

 

Luisa was next. She chose a documentary about penguins, full of desolate yet beautiful scenery. It put the children to sleep, but the adults could watch it until the end without listening to Héctor over-identify with child delinquents or tropical fish.

 

_-0-_

 

_Dear Imelda,_

 

_I don't know what's happening now, but I want you to know I love you and I miss you...._

 

_-0-_

 

_Dear Imelda,_

 

_I love you and miss you. I've decided to escape the processing centre with two fine people called Carmen and Pedro. We're all tired of waiting and have a plan to bust out, get an automobile and drive south. I don't think anything will go wrong..._

 

_-0-_

 

_Dear Imelda,_

 

_I love you and miss you. I had to hitch-hike with an Ernesto De La Cruz fan. It was awful. It was worse than that time...._

 

_-0-_

 

_Dear Imelda_

 

_I love you and miss you. I finally arrived. I am getting to know our living family. All our grandchildren and great grandchildren and great great grand children are such fine people. And I got to spend all day with Coco. I got to give her the biggest hug and tell her how much I loved her....._

 

_-0-_

 

_Dear Imelda,_

 

_I love you and miss you. I now have new clothes that actually fit me. Elena took me shopping...._

 

_-0-_

 

_Dear Imelda,_

 

_I love you and miss you. Cameras are so small now. Miguel has one that fits in one hand...._

 

_-0-_

 

_Dear Imelda,_

 

_I love you and miss you. I am learning all about modern technology. I am very intrigued by the refrigerator and the light inside it. Is the food afraid of the dark? I don't understand the purpose of a light inside....._

 

_-0-_

 

_Dear Imelda,_

 

_I love you and miss you. Microwaves are strange. Did you know how to work a microwave when you were alive. Of course you did. You were always so clever with gadgets...._

 

_-0-_

 

 

Mama Coco had gotten stronger with Héctor helping to take care of her. Mama Coco was a complete daddy's girl, evidentially. She ate heartily for him. She was more expressive. She sang songs. She seemed to understand and remember more again. Mama Coco would never get 'better,' but she had her old spark back.

 

Elena often found them together in the courtyard of a morning, after Héctor had helped walk the kids to school. They would sit together, soaking up the winter sun while Héctor played for Mama Coco on the guitar. Sometimes they would be whispering stories to each other. Always, they seemed happy.

 

Today, Coco had wanted to play the guitar herself. Héctor held it up for her and place her fingers near the strings. He watched his daughter avidly, like he had never seen anything more precious. Coco couldn't play the guitar very well with her arthritic hands – but at that moment, it hardly mattered. Mama Coco was smiling brighter than the sun as she made a truly terrible noise on that instrument. She was having another _good day._

 

Everyday had been a _good day_ since Héctor had come back. After Mama Coco was asleep for her siesta, Elena went looking for Héctor. Elena could see that, for all his other faults, Héctor was very devoted to his daughter. He was still as foolish as a knife-juggling slug, but she had been wrong about him being a complete wastrel.

 

She'd been harsh and unkind, because she had worried that he would somehow hurt Mama Coco's feelings or make her sad. But the opposite had been true. Just his presence had brought rare joy to Mama Coco's smile.

 

Elena was no good with words. She wasn't going to say she was sorry. But she made him some fresh fried _chapulines_ to make amends. Then she hadn't been able to find that fool, and now the _chapulines_ were getting cold.

 

It just went to prove Elena's other assumptions about the musician. Even when you tried to do something nice for him, he was such a human disaster that he would ruin it somehow.

 

Elena enlisted Victoria to help find him. They discovered him next to the offrenda, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, a large writing pad resting on his knees and his pen moving rapidly. Victoria stood above him, looked at the haphazard pile of papers next to the family photo, then back down at his writing, and raised her eyebrow.

 

“You're writing to her every day, you big dork? Imelda's going to tease you about being such a drama queen when we get back.”

 

“She will – but at least she'll know what I was up to, and that I loved her and missed her everyday.”

 

“She'll also know that you have an unhealthy obsession with refrigerators.” Victoria said, and she thumbed through the pile on the offrenda, glancing at previous letters.

 

“Why is that light there? How does that light even work!” Héctor was still indignant about this.

 

“I always assumed witchcraft.” Victoria said with a cheeky grin.

 

Elena asked what was happening. Victoria explained that anything left on the offrenda could become a spirit-copy that could taken back to the Land of the Dead. If you wrote the dead a letter, and left in on the offrenda, they would be able to read your message on Dia De Los Muertas.

 

The more you know....

 

“Héctor – this is ridiculous.” Victoria said, sitting next to Héctor on the floor and jostling his shoulder. “We could _puff_ back home tomorrow. Mama Imelda is going to read these ten months from now. Then she'll know just what a total basketcase she married.”

 

It had started happening. Just as suddenly as they had arrived, the re-animated had started exploding in a giant puff of petals and disappearing. Once again, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to it. No predicting it. Victoria or Héctor could disappear at a moment's notice and they had no way of knowing. Victoria had ranted about how irritating such an unpredictable system was. Héctor had stopped promising Mama Coco he would be there when she woke up, but otherwise hadn't let on how he felt about it.

 

“Imelda already knows I'm a basketcase.” Héctor said, jostling Victoria good-naturedly. “ Besides, I wrote to her everyday the last time I went away, even if I could only get to a post office once a week. Sometimes I had to try fit eight days worth in one envelope and I could barely fit them all in. Imelda told me she'd liked it – getting all those letters at once.” Héctor said, looking adoringly up at the photo of his wife.

 

“You only had trouble fitting it in an envelope because your writing is ridiculously huge.”

 

He did have large, looping handwriting. Victoria wasn't just teasing. Elena looked between Héctor and Victoria, and came to a sudden realisation. Héctor squinted at printed words. He said movies made him dizzy, and books gave him headaches. Victoria had needed glasses since she was child. They were so similar in so many ways. They had the same build, same bone structure, same unfortunate ears (that Victoria had always hidden with her hairstyle). Perhaps they were both long-sighted too?

 

“Here, try these.” Elena said suddenly, reaching down and taking the glasses from Victoria's face, and placing them on Héctor's nose.

 

“Oh my goodness. I can see clearly now!” Héctor said as he looked around the room with Victoria's glasses. He smiled widely, taking in the new details. “Oh yay. _Chapulines_!” Héctor had only just noticed the plate that Elena had brought in for him.

 

Fool musician!

 

“Damnit! I get my eye-sight from you too?!” Victoria grumbled as she snatched her glasses back. “What other crap genes did you give me? I got your stupid height, your ridiculous jug ears and your god-damn cheekbones. Wasn't that enough?

 

“You got all my best features – I'm _muy guapo_ ” Héctor said, waggling his eyebrows at Victoria.

 

“Idiot.” She said fondly, as she gave him a friendly shove.

 

Elena didn't understand their relationship at all. Héctor was Victoria's grandfather, and yet they acted like bickering siblings. They were worse than bickering siblings – Elena had never fought with Victoria.

 

 

Elena had never seen Victoria be this _playful_ with another person, ever. Héctor seemed to bring out her mischievous side.

 

Elena should be worried. But it was nice to see her sister smile like that.

 

-0-

 

Things Héctor needed – and updated list.

 

  * New glasses of his own.

  * Probably a haircut too. Honestly, he always looked so scruffy.

  * To stop trying to figure out the fridge light,

  * More common sense,

  * A good smack upside the head – as always.




 

 

-0-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone, I hope you like the new chapter. 
> 
> The chapter titles will be from song lyrics. This one is from Florence and the Machine's "Hunger". 
> 
> Chapter one was from "I will survive" - ba dum tish - geddit. 
> 
> So there were a few more b99 shout outs. Hector is like Terry. If Miguel runs and jumps at him, he will catch the kid in his arms. 
> 
> So Coco clearly has dementia or Alzheimer's. Both are degenerative - however playing music from childhood does seem to stave off some of the worst effects and help patients hold on to memories a bit longer. So science points to Coco, along with beautiful storytelling points. 
> 
> Gah, even the science behind the movie is beautiful. 
> 
> Anyway, this is set two months after the Dia De los Muertas final scene of the movie. Mama Coco just held onto life a little bit longer, but she has been slipping recently. However, I wanted her to live long enough for Hector to see her in the living world and get to tell her he loved her himself, while she was still alive. 
> 
> I think the Riveras would be getting pretty good royalties out of Hector's songs (They're great songs. He would have won an oscar!)- but they're practical people. They are splashing it around crazily. They're happy in their own home and with their shoeshop. However they have much more disposable money available now and have 'treated themselves' to the little luxuries. 
> 
> The modern world would bamboozle Hector at the start. He was born before vaccinations, my friends! When he was alive people kept stuff in "iceboxes" which is exactly as it sounds. A box with ice. The refrigerator section of the supermarket would blow his mind. The fridge in general would be a marvel to him. 
> 
> Oaxaca is great for coffee and cocoa growing. Most of the coffee is exported, but it is apparently really good and can be bought in the region too. There is also a special regional take on hot chocolate too. 
> 
> Til next time.


	3. I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints

-0-

It was happening more frequently.

 

The woman who had died in childbirth, who then got to meet her adult daughter - _puff._

 

The high-profile murder victim finally seeing her murderer in handcuffs and getting justice at long last – _puff._

 

The romantic. She was able to confess her love and know it would have been reciprocated - _puff!_

 

(That puff seemed especially inconvenient for both parties.)

 

A pattern had emerged. It was no longer coincidence. Experts argued with each other on the radio about how it worked. They agreed on a few key points. It was apparent that everyone who had returned from the dead had “unfinished business” in the land of the living. Once this unfinished business was...err... _finished,_ the re-animated person would go back to the land of the dead. It wasn't enough to die unexpectedly. You had to die with something very important left undone.

“Well, that explains Ernesto.” Héctor said with uncharacteristic bitterness. He was always grinning like a fool and making people smile. Hearing this tone of voice from him, the simmering anger, was jarring for Elena.

“What do you mean?” Elena asked, as she poured him another coffee. He looked like he needed it.

“He would have had no unfinished business. He wanted to be rich and famous...and he was. He wanted the world to love him...and they did. He got everything he ever wanted in life. _Everything._ ”

Elena felt a surprising twinge of disappointment. She had not wanted Ernesto De La Cruz to come back to life. She did not think he deserved a second chance at anything. But she had dearly hoped for the opportunity to smack that unfeeling bastard repeatedly with her hardest winter boots. Perhaps it was for the best. Now she wouldn't sully her good boots with his stupid face.

Héctor was still looking uncharacteristically gloomy. Elena wanted to say something comforting, but what can you say when a cold-hearted psychopathic murderer got everything he ever wanted in life and never paid for his crimes? There was no justice in the world – but Elena suspected Héctor already knew that far too well.

“What did you want in life then, Héctor?” Victoria's voice broke the silence.

They were in the strange early morning hours. Elena and Héctor had just gotten up, but Victoria hadn't even been down yet. They were starting their days with coffee. Victoria was nursing her last gin and tonic of the night. (She didn't drink tequila in front of Héctor any more. He couldn't stomach even the smell of it in the living world.

“Obviously to be home with my family, to see my Coco. I missed spending my birthday and Día de los Muertos with my Coco and Imelda. I really wanted to be home for Christmas. I think that's why I'm still here. Maybe I get to stay for Christmas and spend time with the family properly. I am not worried, mine is easy.” He gave a good-natured shrug, but then glanced at Victoria. The way Héctor looked at Victoria spoke volumes – full of concern and care. “What about you Victoria? What did you want in life?”

“Mine is obvious too. I always wanted to drive a monster truck.” Victoria sassed him, not answering seriously.

“Victoria, I really want to know. It's just me and Elena here. You can tell us.”

Héctor had only known Victoria a little over a year, and he was already acquainted with her reserved nature. She had a strong disdain for expressing emotions she didn't care for. Héctor was probably the same, Elena realised. Victoria hid her sadness behind a wall of sarcasm. Héctor just covered everything that upset him with a smile and an easy-going, upbeat attitude.

Victoria looked away from the two of them and out the kitchen window – like she thought something really interesting was happening out there. When she turned back to them, her face was closed off, her mouth set in a wry expression. They wouldn't get anywhere with her this morning.

“All I want in this life _Grandpa,_ is for you to shut up and get me another drink.” Victoria said as waved her empty glass at Héctor. Héctor sighed extravagantly, but complied.

 

-0-

 

Elena took Héctor to the optometrist.

It was horrible.

Héctor did not like the big blinky machine with the lights, the lazers and the lenses. Apparently the optometrist needed him to sit in the chair while she put that huge thing over his eyeballs. Then she would shine a bright light in them and do something with lazers. She was going to shoot lazers into his eyeballs!

Héctor did not need to see this badly.

He tried to politely leave, saying he had an appointment somewhere else.

“This is _your appointment,_ you giant idiot.” Elena said, arms folded and looking supremely unimpressed. She practically pushed him into the optometrist's chair. Héctor closed his eyes tightly, gripped the armrests and hoped it would be over soon. This did not help the optometrist.

“He died in the 1920s. He's never seen a machine like this.” Elena said apologetically to the optometrist. She came and stood next to Héctor and put her hand on his shoulder. Héctor assumed this was to stop him from trying to run away again, rather than to comfort him during his horrible ordeal. “Héctor, stop being dramatic and open you eyes so this nice lady can see what type of glasses you need.”

Elena spoke with such a commanding voice sometimes. Héctor knew it was in his best interest to obey.

When it was over, Elena helped Héctor choose some frames for his prescription. She actually just vetoed all his choices, saying things like “You're too young to be wearing this style. These are glasses for a 90-year-old.” Elena had found a pair that he liked and that she thought did not look ridiculous on him. They were so expensive! Even with Elena explaining about inflation, and saying “believe me, we have plenty of money,” in this very enigmatic tone of voice, it still seemed like too much. Héctor didn't want to be a burden.

“If I can make a suggestion,” The optometrist said after many minutes of Elena and Héctor struggling to agree. “You may also want to take your. _..relative_ to get his vaccinations as well. My husband is a doctor and he was telling me that lots of the new re-animated who passed before the 1940's aren't immune to whooping cough, rubella or diptheria.”

This suggestion was not glasses related. It did not help the current situation. It also sounded like another appointment was going to be made for Héctor. In the spirit of keeping the peace with Elena, and in the vain hope that she would relent in her appointment making if she was less irritated with him, Héctor agreed to the ridiculously expensive glasses.

An appointment was still made.

Héctor was not entirely sure what diptheria was. Neither was Elena. She got out what she called her 'smartphone,' and then she 'googled' diptheria. Héctor was _fascinated_ by smartphones, but Elena would not let him even touch hers; saying “It won't be a smartphone if you touch it. You'll make it a stupidphone.”

“Well, you are not bringing _this disease_ into my house.” Elena said after a few moments perusal about diptheria on her smartphone. “Let's just get these glasses and get you to a doctor.”

“But I'm not sick.”

“Yes, and we are going to _keep it that way_!”

 

-0-

 

“Very handsome.” Miguel said when he saw Héctor with his new glasses. “Smile, Héctor.”

Héctor made his usual goofy smile while Miguel took _another blasted photo._

“Enough Miguel. No more photos!” Elena gave a resigned sigh, as Miguel flashed her that same goofy smile and put his camera behind his back. She stared at him, hands on her hips, until he went and put the camera back in his room.

“What are you doing?” Miguel asked, as he returned and sat next to Héctor.

“I'm writing to Imelda about vaccinations. I had mine today, look.” Héctor showed Miguel his band-aids.

The doctor had been completely charmed by Héctor's ridiculousness. Héctor had received three lollipops (one for each vaccination). Héctor's reaction to coco-cola flavoured chuppachups was going on the list of things Elena had to put up with. It was _obscene_ how much the idiot liked concentrated sugar.

After his vaccinations, Héctor could choose between plain, sensible adult band-aids or the ridiculous children's bandaids covered in cartoons. He recognised the pictures from something the twins were obsessed with. Benny and Manny had the same cartoon characters on their drink bottles and lunch boxes. So naturally, Héctor picked the cartoon ones, so he could show the children.

Idiot! He might be 118, but he had never outgrown his immaturity. He was worse than a five-year old who had just been give 3 espressos, a baby kitten and roller-skates.

Benny and Manny had thought the band-aids were amazing, but they were easily entertained by Héctor's ridiculousness. They loved him with the easy affection of small children just because he would sing to them, would give them piggy-backs or dangle them upside down by their feet, or would listen to them babble about cartoons like what they were saying was very fascinating and important.

Elena didn't know how she had managed to put up with this nonsensical man for a whole morning. She'd taken him to _two_ appointments and hadn't throttled him at either one! Héctor had been less difficult for the vaccination process that he was at the optometrists. That was a small blessing. If he'd tried to stroll out of that doctor's office, saying he was very busy and important and had another appointment somewhere else, Elena would have walloped him with her shoe.

When Elena got him home he immediately started writing to Imelda about his day. The pile of letters in front of the family photo on the offrenda was getting bigger.

Victoria was right.

He was ludicrous. Elena couldn't imagine her Mama Imelda, the woman who had ruled the family with an indomitable iron fist, would have the time or the patience for Héctor's ridiculousness. He was more ridiculous than a group of penguins doing the hula.

“Mama Imelda already knew about vaccinations.” Elena scolded.

“Well, they are brand new for me. Perhaps she will like to hear my thoughts of then. Can you imagine if we'd had them during the flu outbreak? So many people would still be alive today...Well maybe not, they probably would have died of old age by now, but you know what I mean.”

He was talking about the spanish flu epidemic of 1918. How could he be so cheerful and playful all the time when he could remember something _so devastating_ from 100 years ago? Surely living through a revolution, a war, and a lethal epidemic would have given him some solemnity?

“Well, when you're finished, could you teach me some more on the guitar?” Miguel asked, excitedly.

They practised together every afternoon. Miguel had been entirely self-taught until Héctor came back. He could only play a few songs from watching Ernesto De La Cruz movies, a song the mariachi had taught him and songs of his own creation. He played them well, but his repertoire was limited. He'd been trying to teach himself to read music, but was finding it difficult.

Héctor had told Miguel it was okay if reading music was tricky for him. Music was meant to be heard and felt, and they could worry about dots and lines later. Héctor could do something called “playing-by-ear.” He only needed to listen to a song a few times before he could figure out how to play it.

Miguel learned by _doing._ Héctor would listen to Miguel's favourite songs with him, then show him how to play them. Only when Miguel was confident with playing the song, did Héctor write down the dots and lines and explain music notation to Miguel. In many ways, his ridiculously large handwriting had probably made this easier for Miguel.

They were making much better progress now that they were using the CD player instead of the Bluetooth speaker and spotify.

Enrique had bought himself a bluetooth speaker, and a spotify account subscription with the Héctor Money. Elena didn't bother with that nonsense. (The radio in the kitchen suited her fine). The bluetooth speaker and spotify had been too _fascinating and distracting_ for Héctor. He fell in love with the bluetooth speaker and spotify.

Héctor couldn't get over all the changes in music – all the different genres and sounds now available. They all heard his running commentary and musical musings for what felt like _hours._ The man could not shut up about it. He wrote a ten page letter to Imelda about it.

It could have gone on a lot longer. There was a strong possibility that Miguel and Héctor could have listened to music together forever, but Enrique intervened and requested his phone back. Now they used the CD player – and they both got less distracted.

Miguel had some CDs that he had gotten for his birthday and was learning to play songs from them. They were making good progress. Héctor was very patient when teaching Miguel. Elena had known Miguel was talented to begin with, but she could really hear him improving every afternoon he practised with Héctor.

“You're very good with him.” Elena remarked one morning. She and Héctor were often the first people awake. Victoria was a night owl, but Héctor woke up ridiculously early every morning. They were both trying to keep more regular sleeping schedules, so they could spend more time with the family.

“Well, I'm just glad I'm a better teacher for him than watching old Ernesto De La Cruz movies.” Héctor had replied with a wry smile. “It's probably because I'm so much more handsome than that butt-chinned, over-the-top ham.”

“Because you're a pointy-chinned, over-the-top ham?” Elena replied, feeling surprising witty. She never made teasing jokes like this normally, but it was _so easy_ with Héctor.

He looked mock-offended. “I'll have you know, my chin is wonderful and I've given it to several of your grandchildren, so there.”

If Elena was a different person, she probably would have pulled Héctor into a warm, laughing hug then. She might have told him seriously that Miguel had always been _difficult_ for her _._ He felt things so strongly and got so upset and emotional – she'd always struggled with how to help him, how to calm him. Miguel was so happy now. She knew that was because of Héctor.

She might have told Héctor that he was at least six thousand times the musician, eight thousand times the teacher, and ten thousand times the man that Ernesto De La Cruz was.

But Elena was who she was.

Instead she said “Idiot,” and ruffled his stupidly messy hair rather fondly.

She told herself she wasn't warming to the fool musician, but she knew it was a lie.

 

-0-

 

_Early November, 2017._

 

All of Miguel's Ernesto De La Cruz merchandise had emerged from his hidey-hole after Día de los Muertos. He had thrown it all in the garbage rather ceremoniously. Elena had caught him. He seemed ashamed, one arm holding his elbow nervously. Things had been frosty between them since the guitar smash, even though Elena had apologised and lifted the music ban. Miguel was still a little wary around her.

He'd been holding a match above the garbage bin, and she'd rushed over to blow it out. She had not let him burn it – because that was a fire hazard and their were children around. Also those VHS tapes would release some noxious gases if they were burned.

Miguel was very adamant about destroying everything. They'd stood in front of the garbage, arguing about it.

She hadn't understood. Miguel had loved that musician, and he'd fought so hard to be able to play his music. Elena had to concede that the man was a genius. His songs were beautiful. Especially _Remember Me._ That song had brought Mama Coco back to herself – though Elena preferred the soft, soulful way the Miguel sung it to the loud and bombastic version that had been on the CD she had bought yesterday.

Just yesterday she had gone into a music shop for the first time and had purchased a CD player and 'The best of Ernesto De La Cruz'. She wanted to be able to play the song for Mama Coco when Miguel wasn't around, so that they could have more _good_ days.

She thought Miguel would be happy that she was sharing his love of the musician, but Miguel had been angry when she had shown him her purchases. He said everybody still thought Ernesto De La Cruz was the greatest musician of all time, but he was the worst! Now even his Abuelita, who had always hated music, was buying his CDs and singing his praises.

“I didn't hate music. I just didn't understand it.” Elena had said. She could have added “I really want to understand it. I really want to understand you, Miguelito. Please stop shutting me out and yelling, and tell me what is happening,” but she didn't. Miguel was still too raw from the night he ran away. He didn't trust Elena the way he used to.

She had tried to make it up to him. She lifted the music ban. She'd let him keep that guitar and kept quiet about how it looked eerily like the one that had gone missing from the mausoleum. But he was still angry about something. He was going to burn everything about the musician he had loved. He was feeling so many things. She saw anger, frustration and sadness in him – a volatile mix.

“What's wrong Migeulito. I thought you loved this musician. Why do you want to burn all your things? His _Remember Me_ song is so beautiful.”

“ _It wasn't his song!_ He's not the one we need to remember. He was a bad man!” Miguel had yelled. “And I can't tell you what's wrong because I know you won't believe me.” Miguel had yelled. (He had actually been right about that. It had taken Victoria coming back for Elena to fully believe him after all. But she would have listened to him, at least. She was trying to get better at that.)

“Miguelito, please. Talk to me. I want to help you.”

“If you want to help me, and you wont let me burn this stuff, then help me smash it instead!” He'd said. “You're good at smashing things.”

They both knew Miguel was referring to the guitar she'd smashed. It had made him cry, made him run away. She hadn't meant to upset him so. She never meant to upset him. Well, if this was how Elena could make amends to Miguel, she would.

They had spent the afternoon ripping the ribbon out of VHS tapes, and breaking the plastic cases, ripping up pictures and stomping on the pieces with their big Rivera boots. It seemed to be cathartic for Miguel. He stomped on Ernesto De La Cruz's face with a great deal of enthusiasm, muttering 'take that' under his breath. He didn't tear up any of the sheet music though – he saved that in another pile. He just wanted to destroy the Ernesto memorabilia. He clearly loved the music, but hated the man.

When they were finished, Elena pulled Miguel into a hug. At first he was rigid in her arms.

“Miguel, I know you love music. If you don't love Ernesto De La Cruz any more, that is okay. I promise you we wont have anything more from this musician in the house. I won't buy any more CDs. But we will still have music. If music makes you happy, I promise won't take it away.” Elena had said, as the sun began to set.

It seemed to help.

Miguel hugged her properly then, for the first time since their fight.

 

-0-

 

_December 2018_

Before dinner, everyone was treated to one of Miguel's little impromptu performances. He played them three songs that he had perfected and another one that he had written himself. Héctor felt so proud watching him. He loved Miguel so much it felt like his new heart was going to explode.

Everybody cheered and lavished Miguel with attention – except Rosa, who was still smiling gamely most of the time, but she looked a little glum when she thought nobody was watching her. She wandered off and sat around the other side of the workshop as the family went inside. Héctor followed her. She was sitting on the steps with an arm around her knees, looking forlornly at the cobblestones.

“What's up sweetpea? Why are you sitting over here all by yourself?” Héctor asked crouching down in front of her.

“I just felt like being by myself.” she said, looking away from him.

“Can I be by myself next to you?”

she shrugged nonchalantly, but Héctor took that as permission and moved to sit next to her, arms around his knees, mirroring her position.

“You want to tell me what is bothering you?”

“Nope.”

“Is it because I'm a zombie? I know that worries your brother. I probably wouldn't talk to a zombie either and I'm not even sure what a zombie is.”

Rosa gave a little chuckle, and smiled weakly at him. Good, he'd been hoping to get at least a smile out of her.

“Abel's an idiot.” Rosa said fondly. “Besides you're not a zombie. You're a re-animated. That's different.”

“Thank you.” Héctor said, giving her a slight bow, as if she'd just given him a massive compliment.

They were quiet for a few moments.

“Is it because Miguel is getting all the attention?” Héctor asked – knowing the answer to Rosa's sad mood had something to do with the performance.

“ No, it's not that. It's just...it comes _so easy_ to him, you know.” Rosa confessed quietly. “He plays so well already!” she was indignant.

“ Well Miguel had a bit of a head-start, didn't he? He was apparently _sneaking_ off to his _sneaky_ _offrenda_ to the _butthead_ and teaching himself.” Héctor complained dramatically.

He wasn't proud of the way he felt when Miguel had told him how he'd learned to play guitar (jealous – so futilely jealous). So he'd made a joke out of it. He was still making a joke out of it. His joke worked though. Rosa chuckled again. That was good. She was smiling properly now. Now she was a bit more relaxed, he could be serious with her and offer her some proper encouragement.

“Rosa, you can't expect to be perfect at the violin in your first year of learning. The violin is a really difficult instrument. It takes years of practice to get good at it.” He reassured her, putting his hand on her shoulder. She leaned into his chest then. He wrapped his arm around her and gave her a cuddle. “That's why I picked guitar. It's so much easier,” he added. She laughed again.

“But I'm good at everything Héctor!” Rosa insisted – as if being unable to excel at the violin in her first year somehow a personal failing. “I get straight As. I'm in the Olympiad team for mathematics. I won the silver award at the sports carnival.” She explained. Even though Héctor hadn't understood half it, he could tell she was bragging. Héctor liked that she was confident about her other skills, but she seemed to want to be perfect at everything.

 _Perfectionist._ Imelda was one too. Héctor knew a perfectionist could be her own worst enemy - never seeing how amazing she actually was, just because one little thing was askew. Perfectionists were always so hard on themselves. Rosa needed to smile and laugh and relax and enjoy her talents, without needing everything to be _perfect._

“I've always been able to just... _get_ things, except the violin. I've been trying so hard, but I can only play one song – and that's a song Miguel wrote! I can't do what Miguel does.” Rosa finished quietly, looking down sadly.

Héctor gave Rosa's shoulder a squeeze then told her to go get her violin.

“What? now?”

“Yes now, Kiddo.”

Héctor hadn't been that great at the lessons the nuns taught them at the orphanage. He'd never considered himself 'smart' the way Rosa was. But he got music. He understood it completely. He'd played with a few bands when he was young, and had a few goes on his friend's violin. He knew roughly how the violin should be played.

“Okay. Can you play the scales?” Héctor asked when Rosa was standing in front of him with her violin.

She screwed up her fact in concentration. She played a few notes, but faltered at the first little mistake – an inadvertent screechy note.

“Ah, I've seen this problem before.” Héctor said, trying to sound wise. He got up and stood next to her. “You've got to loosen up, Rosa. Here, shake it off, like this.” He did his loosen up dance for her. She giggled and copied him.

“That's good. That's a good loosen up dance Rosa.” he encouraged. “ You know, I had a few friends who played the violin, and they would always do this before a show.” He made a variety of ridiculous faces and postures at her. She laughed again.

“And they held their bows like this, and their arms like this.” Héctor helped position her arm correctly. It would be more comfortable for her and she'd find it easier to play.

"Okay. Now try playing something.”

“What should I play?” Rosa asked, hesitant.

“Play whatever makes you happy.”

“What if I make a mistake?”

“It's okay to make mistakes Kiddo, especially when you are still learning. But if you worry too much about making a mistake, you will be holding this” - he pointed to her bow hand - “ too tightly and the music can't flow.”

Rosa was looking at him, eyes widening in understanding.

“It's only me listening and I'm going to love hearing whatever you play. Don't worry so much about mistakes little one. We all make mistakes. And when you worry, you aren't letting yourself enjoy the music. Music is meant to be fun.”

Rosa nodded, and tried again. She played for him, a sweet little nursery rhyme. She made it all the way through without a single screechy note. Héctor clapped riotously when she was finished, glad he could be her first real audience. She grinned widely at him and bowed sweetly, clearly proud of herself.

 

-0-

 

Elena had to admit it. Héctor was _good_ with the kids. She'd give him that, at least. He was still as thick as two short planks glued together with stupid glue, but the kids adored him.

Héctor was good with Coco too. Elena had gotten used to hearing his voice saying things like “These are your Tuesday medicines, open up for me,” and then seeing Mama Coco do it straight away. “Oh, you're such a good girl, ” Héctor would say, and Mama Coco would smile widely at him.

At first it had been jarring to see them together, to see how tender Héctor was with his elderly daughter. Mama Coco was one hundred years old. Héctor would always be one week past his twenty-first birthday. Coco outlived her father nearly five times over, but she was still daddy's little girl. It was actually rather sweet.

 _Dios Mio! He'd only been a year older than Abel when he'd died!_ Elena realised with a start. Héctor had a two year old daughter when he was Abel's age!

Luisa and Enrique also liked him. Enrique had even asked for sneaky guitar lessons so he could surprise Miguel for his birthday. Elena suspected Enrique actually just wanted to learn to play guitar for himself, and was using Miguel as a pretence. But Héctor had complied, and was now showing him things when Enrique took a break for lunch and the kids were still at school.

Héctor listened patiently to Gloria ramble about his horoscope. Berto loved him for this, because it stopped Gloria from ranting about _his_ horoscope.

Franco was meant to explain inflation better, because Elena worried that Héctor still hadn't completely grasped this concept. Instead Franco went on a long rambling rant about local history. Héctor listened patiently, clearly fascinated. Franco had never had such a captive audience, and Elena's usually retiring husband had clearly loved the attention.

Even Abel coming around. He no longer avoided Victoria and Héctor, while muttering about zombies, at least.

-0-

Elena had felt that Victoria needed to be doing something practical with her time. She'd always been a restless soul. Elena had given her sister small orders and Victoria was slowly working her way through them. Christmas was a busy time – and now that Héctor was here, Elena could also get back to work properly. Héctor, knowing nothing about shoe-making, instead made himself useful by caring for Mama Coco and the children, freeing up more of Elena's time. He seemed perfectly content in this role. At first Elena was worried that he was going to clearly play favourites with Miguel, but that hadn't been the case.

When the twins and Rosa had accused their cousin of 'hogging' Héctor, Héctor had calmed them all down. He explained to them, very seriously, that he loved them all very much, but Mama Coco was _clearly his favourite, because she was the best wrestler in the family._ He'd been joking – and it had worked. Mama Coco's laugh rang out like a bell. She knew no one would compete with her. The kids giggled, then all ganged up on Héctor for being 'so mean' and chased him round the courtyard trying to wrestle him.

Elena could hear the joyful nonsense clear from the workshop, and smiled despite herself.

Idiot. He was a total idiot.

Mama Imelda certainly had _weird taste_ in guys. She was such a domineering personality and Héctor was so cheerful and easy-going. At first Elena couldn't imagine them together. But now, Elena was beginning to see what had charmed Mama Imelda about Héctor in the first place.

For all his faults and his obvious stupidity, he was endlessly kind. He liked to put people at ease and make them laugh. Most men would be affronted by by being given the task of child-rearing and looking after the old people – but Héctor delighted in it. He didn't have a hint of machismo about him. It was refreshing.

Elena wondered if this was why Mama Imelda had loved him so much.

“Elena, I wish you could have seen them together..seen _her._ Mama Imelda. She was so _different_ when he was around.” Victoria said over their coffee.

Elena had taken her sister for a break, because she could see that Victoria was feeling a little overwhelmed to be in the workshop again. Some fresh air and hot coffee did a body the world of good.

“Different how?”

“You won't believe me. I scarcely believed my own eyes, and I saw it for myself.” Victoria said with a rueful shrug. Elena was endless curious and just waited for Victoria to elaborate.

“When Héctor is around Mama Imelda is just lighter and happier. She's less severe, you know. She let's herself be... more relaxed. She laughs. She dances. She even sings. Elena, her singing voice is beautiful. I wish you could hear her.”

“I think she must have been _like that_ before he left, you know. ” Victoria gazed across the plaza. Her eyes fell on the statue of Ernesto De La Cruz and she frowned. “It changed her – losing Héctor. Thinking he abandoned her. It's what made her so hard and severe.”

Elena nearly dropped her coffee in surprise that Victoria had come right out and _said it,_ bold as brass.

“ I love her, Elena. I love Mama Imelda. I don't mean that to come out wrong...” Victoria said quickly, “but Elena, even you must admit – Mama Imelda was a terrifying force of a woman.”

Elena felt a little traitorous, but gave a slight nod. She couldn't deny that Victoria was telling the truth. Their grandmother was an indomitable hurricane in a tiny woman's body.

“It makes you wonder what she was even doing with someone as easy-going as Héctor in the first place.” Elena said.

“Héctor balances her out.” Victoria said with a shrug. “ Back home, she'll get _so intense_ about whatever. The stitching isn't exactly perfect, so the world is ending kinda _intense._ Then Héctor will come along and tell her a dumb joke, or rub her shoulders or sing her a song, or just be so ridiculous that she has to laugh.”

“And he just clearly adores her. He acts like she hung the moon. All Mama Imelda has to do is roll her eyes – and Héctor is there going _“Spectacular! You are amazing my love. The way you roll your eyes at me is pure poetry”_ – and Mama Imelda acts like she hates it, but everyone can tell she actually loves it.” Victoria smiled into her coffee thinking about it. “I can see why she never got over him, you know. She never looked at another man after Héctor, did she?”

“I always used to think she'd sworn off men altogether.” Elena said dryly.

“When I saw them together..It helped me. I think I better understood why Mama Imelda was - ” Victoria paused here, one arm tucked under her elbow, her other hand waving frantically, searching for the words, “- the way she was.”

“She must have still been in love with him that whole time when we were kids, and she was angry at herself about that...because she still thought he'd abandoned them. So she poured all this _energy_ into trying to hate him.” Victoria lowered her voice, the way she always did before she told Elena a secret.

“That's why she was _so mad_ at anything that reminded her of Héctor, because she still loved him deep down, and she was so hurt that he left her.”

Victoria had reminded Mama Imelda of Héctor. Mama Imelda had always been very hard on Victoria when they were children - but they both left that unsaid.

“Sometimes I wonder, what our lives would have been like if Héctor hadn't been murdered.... If he made it back....” Victoria trailed off, her voice wistful.

Elena didn't want to encourage this. She was a practical person. What happened had happened. The past was the past and it couldn't be changed. No good ever came from wondering 'what if' and sighing wistfully.

“For all we know, Mama Imelda still would have been furious with him.” She cut in severely.

“No, she would have forgiven him pretty quickly. It didn't take her long to forgive him when he'd been gone from her life for 96 years. Can you imagine if he'd only been gone two months?” Victoria toyed with the sugar, not meeting Elena's eyes. “I think our lives would have been a lot sweeter and happier if we'd had him around.” Her sister confessed.

“Well, there's no point thinking these things. What happened happened. It is what it is.” Elena replied.

“Still, I think its a shame. He loved her so much, and he died so young, and she spent her whole life feeling angry unnecessarily and thinking he'd abandoned her.” Victoria defensively. “You don't understand Elena – you haven't _seen_ them together.” Victoria put her head on her arms in frustration.

First Miguel, now Victoria, thought Elena would never understand them – but that didn't mean Elena didn't want to _try._ They just never gave her the chance.

Victoria was now groaning dramatically, slumped in her chair, head on her hands. Such a drama queen.

“What is it?”

“Just. _Oh god._ Mama Imelda.” Victoria groaned again, still with her head in her arms. “What must she be feeling now? She only just got him back – and then suddenly _puff._ He ends up here.” She looked up, and stared at Elena “We've got to get him back to her. She'll be panicking on the otherside!”

“ Mama Imelda doesn't panic.”

Mama Imelda made other people panic. She never panicked herself.

“ I've seen her panic.” Victoria said, in an _I-know-something-you-don't-know_ , teasing kind of voice.

Elena raised her eyebrow and waited for Victoria to elaborate. Victoria had to explain a bit about how skeletons move in the Land of Dead, and how Héctor just used to throw himself around like a lunatic, and had heaps of broken bones from being a total idiot. Elena was not surprised by this information. His broken bones started healing when he was better remembered. Two days after the doctor had pronounced his arm all healed, Hector had broken it again, in the exact same place.

“He was trying to pick a flower for her, and naturally he fell on his arse. It was a long way down and we all heard the same crack. Mama was beside herself. She ran faster than I've ever seen. We practically had to chase her. When we got down to the bottom, she was holding Héctor tightly and scolding fiercely him at the same time. It was like she had a split personality.”

Victoria did a good impression of Mama Imelda's voice here, “ - You stupid idiot. _I love you so much,_ but you're _so stupid._ My _precious one_ , you're hurt – let me _kiss it better_. You're such _a stupid idiot._ I'm so _mad_ at you. I l _ove you so much_. I'm going to feed you _so much calcium,_ You're going to get better in no time.”

“Then she looked up and realised we were all watching. She got super embarrassed, and dusted herself off and tried to pretend it hadn't happened. She started saying “We should probably get him to a doctor” all sensible like – but we all saw her acting like she was in a tacky telenovela. And that's the day I saw Mama Imelda panic.”

“Should I be feeding him more calcium?” Elena enquired. Was that something Héctor needed, but hadn't said anything about? He never liked to be “too demanding”, after all.

“Meh. Calicum helps mend bones, but I think that horse has already bolted, Elena. Calcium's not going to make much of a difference to Héctor. He's a healthy twenty-one year old now...and I really hope we send him back _before_ he breaks any more bones. Mama Imelda will _kill_ me if I send him back injured.”

“I don't know how we get him back any faster. But he's not worried. He thinks he's just here to spend time with us over Christmas, and _puff,_ He'll be back in time for New Years with Mama Imelda.”

That was probably why he spends every waking minute with Coco and the children. He was trying to cram in as much time with them as possible before he _puffed_ back. Elena had an odd sinking feeling. Miguel, Rosa and Benny and Manny, not to mention Mama Coco were going to be _devastated_ when that happened.

“I've never known a Héctor plan to work out so neatly. I don't think it will be as simple for him to get back.” Her sister said ominously.

Her voice normally got ominous when the subject of puffing back to the land of the dead came up. Elena remembered her odd attitude in the kitchen that morning and the gentle way Héctor had asked Victoria what she wanted in life. They'd never got a satisfactory answer.

“What about you? Did you want to start thinking on what could send you back?” Elena asked, trying to copy that same gentle tone.

Victoria exhaled loudly, and looked away.

“Maybe I could give you more orders to fill. You always liked being busy.” Elena suggested.

Victoria looked back at her sharply. “I don't think I want to make shoes any more.”

“Oh.”

That was a _big_ thing for a Rivera to say. A Rivera was a shoemaker, through and through. Elena pushed aside her flash of anger at this blunt statement. She had her sister back, and her sister had been unhappy in life and was telling her she didn't want to make shoes. Elena owed it to her to listen.

“That's fine. You don't have to make shoes if you don't want to.”

Victoria smiled in relief at Elena's reaction. Her shoulders relaxed and she seemed a little brighter. She'd clearly been expecting a bit of a fight, but Elena was trying to get better at this – at _really listening_ to what her family wanted.

“What do you want to do instead? You can tell me, really.” Elena said, still in that same quiet tone.

“ I think I want to paint. Draw. My head is so full of pictures, I can't get them out."

“Okay then.” There was still two days before Christmas. Elena had enough time to get some art supplies for Victoria as a present. “I just want you to be happy.”

“ You want to send me back so soon, dear sister?” Victoria said, with her same usual sass. But her sass was covering something. She seemed worried.

“No, it's not that. I just don't like seeing you sad.” Elena said, taking her sister's hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I might be here for a while Elena. I know what I want, and I can't have it.” Victoria confessed.

“What is it?”

“ I think if I never saw her with him, over the otherside, it wouldn't have been as bad you know. I could have passed the rest of my time thinking _'oh Mama Imelda was always like that'_. But she wasn't.”

“We've gotten along so much better since Héctor came back. But she was _so hard_ on me as a kid and I wasn't allowed to _do anything_ – and I guess I just wish it had been different for us you know, I wish we'd had more joy in our lives when we were growing up.”

“You mean, you wish Héctor had been around”

“You see the problem now? As you accurately said, Elena, none of us can change the past,” Victoria gave a rueful smile.

Oh. Elena did see the problem now.

“But I still just wish he'd been there when we were kids. I think we would have had more fun.” She put her head on her arms again, embarrassed at having said so much. “ Don't tell him I said that. He'll think I'm going soft.”

 

-0-

 

What Héctor needed: A short, sad list.

 

  * Not to have died so young.




 

 

-0-

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to everyone who leaves comments - You kind words are what is keeping me inspired and passionate about writing this. They really make my day, so thanks! Gracias!
> 
> Title is from "Only the good die young" by Billy Joel. Ba dum tish, see what I did there. 
> 
> So Hector thinks Ernesto isn't coming back, but he might not have all the information friends. We will see a butt-chinned large ham in future chapters, so hold your horses!
> 
> The vaccination for MMR, whooping cough and diptheria were all released in the 1930's - So Hector would've have missed the boat. 
> 
> Miguel learns by doing, and he has done an amazing job teaching himself - but there is no match for having an actual real-life patient teacher. I do call shenanigans on Rosa perfecting the violin in a year though. The violin is so difficult to pick up. It does take a long time to be able to play it well. So this is my stab at explaining how she plays so well in the finale - she spent ages practicing that one song, but she doesn't have miguel's easy confidence with music. And we got to have a nice Hector/Rosa scene. 
> 
> I do want to write his interactions with each family member. Next chapter - it will be christmas! Hector is going to find out what a zombie is and spend more time with Abel... and shenanigans will ensue. 
> 
> One thing we should know before you read it: Our current Santa, the fat red man in a suit was actually part of a 1930s advertising campaign by coca-cola. In Hector's time Saint Nicholas was just a regular looking guy who dressed in this brown/green ensemble. Six-fingered Pedro may have had some strong views on perverts dressing weirdly - and Hector believed everything six-fingered Pedro said. 
> 
> Til then.


	4. From now on our troubles will be out of sight...

-0-

 

Christmas came and went with the accompanying posadas, nacimientos, piñatas, kitchen dramatics, celebrations, indigestion, sugar highs and food comas.

 

This was only the second time the Riveras had joined in the posada – they'd never gone before last year (because of all the singing involved). You had to sing a song at each house you visited. They always ended up singing more than one song, because of Miguel's indefatigable desire to show all of their neighbours the new Christmas song he could play on his guitar.

 

The children loved it. There was singing, parties, piñatas, candles and fireworks at every house. Rosa proved to be surprisingly good at unleashing her fury on paper mache and getting all the candy out of the piñatas. However the little ones weren't used to the long procession. So Héctor carried Benny, Berto carried Manny and Enrique carried little Coco home after the three of them fell sound alseep at a neighbours' house. The three men gently holding their sleeping infants made a rather heart-warming procession through the streets of Santa Cecilia on the walk back.

 

They put the baby Jesus in his place for the nacimiento, had their feast, gave each other their gifts and went to midnight mass. Elena had put special effort into the gifts for her two re-animateds. It might be the only Christmas they ever got to spend with Victoria and Héctor, after all. Victoria had loved the sketchbook and bumper-pack of artistic supplies that Elena given her.

 

Héctor got shoes. Good, strong Rivera boots.

 

Elena had taken extra care when she made Héctor new shoes. When he'd first arrived, she'd given him any old spare pair in his size, not really caring what he wore on his feet. But the pair he unwrapped on Christmas had been made to measure. They'd fit him perfectly. The leather was soft but strong at the same time. The sole was the sturdiest and most comfortable one she had. He could wear them his whole life, traipsing the length and breath of Mexico and they'd still be comfortable when he was Mama Coco's age.

 

“You made me shoes?” Héctor asked, hesitant yet hopeful at the same time. He wasn't grinning like an idiot or making a joke, or making a fool of himself. He was sincerely touched, and smiling sweetly at her.

 

 _Dios Mio – he's going to get emotional about a pair of shoes, isn't he?_ Elena thought.

 

He was as soppy as wet rag in the rain. She didn't want Héctor to make a big deal out of it, just because she was doing something she should have done when he first arrived. She should have made him a proper pair of Riveras then.

 

He was family after all.

 

She put in lots of effort into his shoes, because she had been trying to make it up to him. She just wanted him to like them and be happy _like a normal person_ – not get emotional and moist around the eyes.

 

“Of course I did. Just put them on and enjoy them, you big idiot.”

 

-0-

 

Christmas eve passed. Christmas day passed. Héctor was still here. “Well, maybe I get to stay until New Years!” He'd said, and he'd seemed cheerful enough, but Elena could see through that.

 

-0-

 

Enrique finally explained to Héctor what a zombie was. Héctor hadn't really known what Abel was referring too when he muttered about zombies, so Enrique decided to enlighten him. He whipped out his smartphone and showed Héctor a small clip from _28 days later,_ then one from _I am Legend,_ then one from _Zombieland_ for good measure.

 

Enrique seemed to be enjoying Héctor's increasingly outrageous and outraged reactions. “Here, let me show you one from _World War Z_.” Enrique had offered hopefully, proffering the smartphone forward.

 

“No, thank you Enrique, I've seen enough.” Héctor said standing up and turning to Abel. “ _This_ – you think Victoria and I are going to do _this?_ You think we're going to become all gross, and decaying and corpse-y with the blood dripping, eye-balls falling out and trying to eat you?!” He demanded.

 

Abel looked a little worried.

 

“I wouldn't eat you Abel, even if I did crave human flesh.” Victoria said disdainfully from her armchair as she flicked through an art magazine. “You'd be too gamey.”

 

“Who would you eat?” Miguel asked as he brought her another Rompope.

 

“Oh Miguel honey, you are obviously the sweetest.” Victoria said, lifting his chin between her thumb and forefinger and giving it a little wiggle. “I'd have to choose you. You'd be the most delicious!” She said with a big smile.

 

“Aww thanks.” Miguel said, clearly flattered.

 

“Victoria! Don't eat my Miguel.” Héctor said, snatching her drink of her and taking a big sip, much to her dismay. “ Miguel, don't encourage Victoria.” He took another sip, and then handed the glass back to his outraged grand-daughter. “And you -” Héctor pointed emphatically at Abel, “- stop watching zombie movies!”

 

Abel was holding his elbow with one arm and shuffling his feet nervously. “To be fair, I now think you guys are more like the zombies from the end of _Warm Bodies_ – you know the zombie movie where the zombies have feelings. You guys are _those_ zombies.... not, you know, the classic, scary, blood-dripping, and eye-balls falling kind of zombies. That's a better zombie at least.” Abel explained.

 

“We're not bloody zombies!” Héctor said, throwing his hands in the air, before storming off.

 

Elena went after him. She'd never seen him in a bad mood, or lose his patience with anyone in the family. It made sense that Abel would be the family member who tipped him over the edge, but still. Elena worried. It wasn't like Héctor.

 

She found him in front of the offrenda, sitting with his back to the wall, the family portrait in his hands. He was stroking Imelda's face gently with his fingertips. He seemed startled when she came in and got up quickly, putting the photo back.

 

“ Sorry Elena. I didn't mean to get cross and storm out.”

 

Héctor hardly ever had a cross word for anyone. Elena said cross words all the time. She didn't think there was anything wrong with getting cross and telling people when they were being blithering idiots. But Héctor hid his anger just as effectively as his sadness. It was almost like he was afraid to be angry or sad around them.

 

“ If Abel called me a zombie, I'd slap him upside the head with a leather sandal. You can be as angry as you like.” Elena said as she went to stand next to him.

 

“I'm not angry. It's just …” He trailed off, doing that arm thing that Victoria did when she was searching for the right words. “ Don't worry. You wouldn't und...”

 

“If you say I wouldn't understand without even trying to tell me what's wrong, I will slap you with this slipper Héctor Rivera, I swear to god!” Elena said crossly. She was sick of people telling her she wouldn't understand when they never even gave her a chance! “Just try me. What's worrying you?” she tried again, in a softer tone.

 

“I'm still here.” Héctor confessed after a long moment. “I don't mean this to come out the wrong way. I love being able to spend time with all of you. It has been wonderful to meet my family and see what fine people you all are....and this is the best Christmas I've ever had...and I love being with Coco -” He looked towards the family portrait. “ - But...Imelda. I miss Imelda so much.”

 

“I'm sure she misses you too.” Elena said, putting her hand on his ridiculously tall shoulder. “We'll get you home soon enough. Epiphany isn't until the sixth of January. I'm sure you'll be home by then.”

 

“Thanks Elena.”

 

-0-

 

To make amends for the whole zombie thing, Abel had tried showing Héctor and Victoria _Warm Bodies._ He wanted to prove that he had actually been saying something _nice._ Victoria refused to watch a zombie movie (she'd been rather sarcastic and mean about it, to be honest). But Héctor agreed out of what seemed to be sheer morbid curiosity.

 

Héctor sat through the whole movie, ate all the popcorn, talked loudly over plot points and got dramatically sad when the lovers were separated. At the end of the film he agreed, very begrudgingly, that he didn't _hate_ the movie. He didn't _like_ it either, but he thought it was a better movie than _Home Alone._

 

Héctor really hated _Home Alone._

 

Héctor was actually okay, for a dead guy.

 

As soon as Abel started talking to him, he'd realised that Héctor was actually really funny. His running commentary on _Warm Bodies_ had been inadvertently hilarious. (Oh no – she'll never sleep with him now that he has eaten her friend. That's a real romance killer. Yes! Play her music muchacho – that's a romance un-killer. The romance is less dead now. The romance is a zombie! I get the reference now Abel. The romance is a zombie because it is back from the dead.)

 

Abel realised belatedly they were actually pretty close in age . Héctor was only a year older than him. If he liked _Warm Bodies,_ he might like football too. Abel decided that he was going to take Héctor to a football game, to really make proper amends for being a dick to him.

 

Football hadn't even been 'a thing' when Héctor had been alive.

 

Oh, his warm-bodied zombie relative had so much to learn!

 

What followed was the most hilarious day of Abel's life. He regretted nothing.

 

Héctor was from, like _the olden days_ or whatever, and so everything about the whole football experience was either amazing or ridiculously frightening for him. Héctor's reactions to the car park boomgate, the ticket scanners, wristbands, the stadium itself, the big screens, the pre-show, the tribal chants of football fans, the football hooligans, and football snacks (nachos and cheap beer) were all _golden_. Every reaction was priceless. All were equally hilarious in their own way.

 

He had to tell Rosa. She was the smart one. She'd have even more great ideas for places they could take their zombie relative!

 

And the Day of the Innocents Saints was tomorrow!

 

-0-

 

It was the winter school holidays. The children had seemed restless. They wanted Héctor to go to all these places with them.

 

Of course, they did.

 

Héctor was the _fun_ adult.

 

But Héctor couldn't drive to save himself. So Elena sent Berto along with the group. A responsible adult would counter-act Héctor's ridiculousness she thought. Elena should have been worried about the ridiculousness of her own son and grandchildren!

 

Berto sat in front of her now, _explaining himself._

 

They had been taking Héctor to places that they knew would completely bamboozle him – just to watch his reactions to all things modern. First, they had taken Héctor to the Plaza Parque. There had been an incident with a charity Santa. According to Berto, told between a ridiculous amount of guffaws, the incident had gone like this:

 

Berto had wanted to get some Héctor money out, so Héctor could have some spending cash. It seemed only fair to let the man spend his own royalties, Berto had argued. Naturally, the whole business with the ATM took a ridiculously long time because of Héctor's fascination with it.

 

Once Berto had received the money and handed some over to Héctor, that idiot announced that he felt like the King of Prussia because Berto had given him so much. “Santa” had overheard, and followed Héctor for a bit, clearly hoping the 'his majesty' would make a donation.

 

Héctor got worried when he realised they were being followed. They'd taken the kids into the nearest shop. Santa kept collecting outside. This struck Héctor as inherently suspicious. The kids had been standing nearby while Héctor alternated between watching them like a worried mother-hawk, side-eyeing the charity Santa, and whispering frantically with Berto.

 

Héctor said, in all seriousness, “Berto, I think the fat man in red is a perverted psychopath.”

 

“Why?”

 

“ Well... _look at him._ Who dresses like that? I died 97 years ago, and even I know that outfit is _wrong._ And he's been following us. According to Pedro that's _stalking._ People only _stalk you_ when they are psychopaths who want to beat you over the head with a golf club. Then they will probably masturbate over your dead body because they are normally _perverts_ as well. Then you get buried in a shallow grave. That could be us - unless we are _street smart_ about it.”

 

“What do you suggest ?”

 

“Well, Pedro said the way to deal with a perverted stalker is to be a bigger psycho and try to beat them over the head with a golf club first... But I don't think we can do that. There are no golf clubs here, and I think it sets a bad example for the kids. I think we try get the kids out of here through a back door.”

 

“Héctor, I think he's actually just a Charity Santa.”

 

“What's a Charity Santa?”

 

Berto explained what a charity Santa was, and said the fateful line: “He's raising money for orphans or something.” Héctor had once been one of the orphans on the receiving end of people's charity at Christmas. He'd felt terrible for assuming the worst of the fat man in red. Héctor then went out and gave _all the money_ that Berto had just given him to the Charity Santa.

 

This just goes to show why they should never give Héctor any of the Héctor Money. He had as much understanding of modern finances as a particularly scatterbrained zoo lemur who had decided to take a holiday, but took a wrong turn and ended up in the tiger enclosure.

 

Berto didn't care. He had such a good time with the kids and Héctor. “It was the most fun I've had in ages, Mama. It was hilarious. We took him to an Electronics store next.”

 

_Oh god no – they didn't!_

 

Berto explained that Héctor was able to press buttons on all of the gadgets. All of the gadgets. No gadget button was left un-pressed in this shop. There were so many fridges for him to experiment with! Food processors, blenders and cameras of all shapes and sizes awaited them. Then the Dyson salesperson showed Héctor a Dyson Airfan.

 

“ _Dios Mio!_ I've never seen anything funnier in my life.” Berto said, gasping for air at this point, his shoulders shaking. “Wait, I have! Can I tell you about the smartphone?” he said when he had collected himself.

 

Elena crossed her arms and frowned at him, but Berto continued on, heedless.

 

He explained that some salesperson actually gave Héctor a smartphone/tablet hybrid to have a play with. Héctor loved the gadget very much...until he discovered some kind of _compose your own trance music_ app.

 

It had a little musical note as the icon, so naturally Héctor felt compelled to press it. The result had been _less than impressive._ Héctor was not charmed by trance music. Héctor did not enjoy trance music at all. Héctor had made a series of comically offended faces at the screen. For once, Héctor hadn't tried to contain his grumpiness around the children. He had complained at length about this app. It was, as Berto quoted, “A travesty of noise. This is not music. This is just sound that is getting grumpy and having a tantrum!”

 

Next they had taken him to the giant music shop next – because Miguel wanted to cheer Héctor up with 'un-grumpy sounds'. They had spent the rest of the day in the music shop as Héctor fell in love with various bits of musical equipment, and discovered keyboards and amps and wireless, noise-cancelling headphones. Rosa, Abel, Miguel and Héctor had a little bit of an impromptu silent disco with the wireless headphones.

 

_Wireless headphones? Someone gave the fool musician wireless headphones to play with?_

 

Yes. That person was her remorseless, giggling son.

 

Then Héctor and Miguel had to be 'escorted out' of the guitar section at the end of the day, not because the manager thought they would steal anything, but simply because both Héctor and Miguel had been _so loud_ and showed no signs of ever leaving and it was 15 minutes past closing time.

 

 _Oh the shame of it!_ Now they were the sort of family that were escorted out of shops.

 

Berto explained that they had taken Héctor to the museum of technology the next day. A whole day was lost forever to virtual reality headsets, planetariums, lazer light shows and interactive exhibits. Héctor's _shell-shocked-but-trying-his-best-to-hide-it_ expression when they'd brought him home was the reason why Elena and Berto were having this little chat.

 

“At least today was educational, Mama. It was a _museum._ The kids really got a lot out of it. And now Héctor's seen so much technology he's not going to want to play with the fridge any more. Tomorrow, we're going to take him to the …”

 

“No. No more Héctor for you.” Elena commanded. “You've lost your Héctor Time!”

 

Berto pouted.

 

The next day, she had come out of the workshop to find the children, Héctor, her husband Franco and their car missing. There was a note from Franco on the counter.

 

**Taking kids and Héctor to the natural history museum in city.**

Even Franco was engaging in this ridiculousness!

 

“But there was a new interactive anamatronic dinosaur exhibit. I just had to see his reaction.” Franco had said in his defence upon his return.

 

“The one with the life-like dinosaurs that pretend to chase you down the hall?”

 

Franco nodded, smiling widely.

 

“And you took Héctor there?”

 

Franco nodded again, shoulders shaking from trying to suppress his laughter.

 

 _Dios Mio,_ who had she married?

 

“Well, I hope it was worth it.” Elena said, with her hands on her hips, in full scolding force.

 

“It was. Oh Elena, don't be angry. I couldn't help myself. It was the funniest thing I've seen in years. His face. You should have seen his face!” Franco, her serious, no-nonsense and quiet husband burst into laughter.

 

-0-

 

“Elena, I was wondering – could I learn how to make shoes? I'd like to stay home and work in the workshop tomorrow.” Héctor asked, a little nervously. He'd come into the kitchen when she'd been making dinner.

 

“I thought you were happy looking after the kids.” Elena said, not glancing at him as she stirred the mole.

 

“The children want to go to _another museum._ Berto and Franco like museums so much, I'm sure they would be happy to take them.”

 

Elena looked at him sharply. Did he just want to get out of going to another museum?

 

“If you don't want to go to a museum, you don't have to Héctor. But don't pretend you want to make shoes.” Elena said severely.

 

“No, I really want to learn!”

 

“Why?”

 

“Epiphany was yesterday.”

 

They'd added the kings to the nacimiento, eaten their three kings cake and celebrated the last day of Christmas together. There'd been so much fun and laughter around the table. Elena had forgotten what she'd said to Héctor when she'd found him sitting sadly in front of their offrenda.

 

“Christmas is over. It wasn't enough for me to spend time with my family. Maybe I have to really _be_ a Rivera...and a Rivera is a shoemaker. So I want to try making shoes, then I can fit in with this family.” Héctor explained.

 

If Elena were different, she would have told him he already did fit in with this family. He didn't need to prove anything to them.

 

Instead she said; “Fine. We'll start after breakfast tomorrow.”

 

-0-

 

Things Héctor did not like about the modern world: A short list.

 

  * The stadium toilets at half-time during a football game

  * The clickety turning gate thing to get out of the stadium.

  * Car park boom gates

  * Juice cleanses

  * Any New Years resolution diet

  * Escalators

  * Saint Nicholas's new clothes – all that red made him look like he wanted to enrage bulls rather than give gifts.

  * “Alexa” - according to Abel, you could only ask her to play _“Despacito”_ when things were sad. This seemed oddly specific. It was a pointless gadget to Héctor.

  * Microwaves with voice command and not buttons

  * Interactive dinosaur exhibits

  * Zombie movies

  * Transformers movies

  * The _Home Alone_ movies – these poor children were left on their own with nobody caring for them and criminals trying to kill them and everyone thought it was funny.

  * Video Game Arcades in general

  * Video Game Arcades with Guitar Hero

  * Failing at Guitar Hero

  * Trying to explain to the man who worked at the Video Game Arcade that the Guitar Hero game was broken because that is not how guitars work!

 




 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So title is from have yourself a merry little christmas. But I was sorely tempted to make an 'all I want for Christmas is shoes...' joke. 
> 
> Christmas in Mexico has some beautiful and amazing traditions, but so many of these traditions are so musical. I was researching and was just struck by how sad it was for the Rivera family to never join in with all the fun things. The posada is a procession to neighbours/family houses that is full of singing and shenanigans and pinatas - and they all missed that. 
> 
> Christmas starts being celebrated around the 16th of Decemeber. That's when people start going on a posada of an evening to celebrate with their loved ones/neighbors. Nacimientos are a nativity scene that gets added to throughout December. They are the decorative centrepiece, instead of a christmas tree. They get added to throughout the christmas celebrations, jesus is added on christmas day. The last celebratory day is Epiphany on Jan 6. It celebrates the three kings arriving. They get put in then.
> 
> Another important day is "the day of innocent saints" (to mark the babies killed by Herod). It is normally around december 28. It is simmilar to April Fools Day. It is a space for crazy shenanigans in the middle of christmas celebrations.
> 
> Plaza Parque is one of the bigger shopping malls in Oaxaca city.
> 
> Rompope is a traditional Christmas drink similar to eggnog.


	5. I can't change, even if I tried...

-0-

 

Victoria was angry at him. She saw Héctor wanting to make shoes as some kind of terrible betrayal. She'd come into the workshop, dragged him out by his arm, just so she could give him a big shove in the courtyard, saying “You said you were going to help me be creative! Now you're making shoes!”

 

“ You can still be creative and make shoes.” Héctor said defensively.

 

“No, you can't!” Victoria hissed. “You measure the foot exactly. You follow the pattern exactly. You cut it out exactly. You stitch it up exactly, and then you hammer in the sole exactly. There is no room for creativity. You're a creative person Héctor – you're going to hate it!”

 

“What makes you so sure I'll hate it?”

 

“Because I hated it! I hated it and I did it every damn day!” She shouted suddenly, with real feeling.

 

Héctor was aware of a collective intake of breath from the workshop. They had an audience. Everyone was listening to this fight. Victoria was really upset about something. She was going to say something she would regret. Maybe a joke would calm her?

 

“Was it really so _sole-_ destroying for you? Geddit? Sole, like the part of the shoe.”

 

“Héctor, Dont make stupid jokes.” Victoria said, crossing her arms and turning away from him. “I'm just saying making shoes wont make you happy.”

 

“At least I'm trying it. I'm trying to get back home. I've got to _try something,_ okay?” Héctor said, hoping she would understand. “I really wanted to help Imelda back on the otherside, but first I was too sick, and then I broke my arm and so much stuff happened with Ernesto and the court case, and I never got the chance - “ he looked around the courtyard.

 

Imelda had loved this place. She'd been so proud of it. She'd built it up from nothing. He owed it to his wife to try and figure out why she loved making shoes so much. “- maybe this is my chance. Maybe when I'm worthy of her, I can go back.”

 

“So you're going to do something you know will make you desperately unhappy – just to be _worthy_ of Imelda?” Victoria threw over her shoulder acidly.

 

“Yes -”

 

She snorted in derision.

 

“If Imelda needs me to be a shoemaker, I'll do it. I know it's hard for you to understand, because you never...”

 

“I never what?” Victoria snapped crisply, turning around.

 

She'd never married, never even had a boyfriend. She was a bright, beautiful woman. She would have had offers. When Imelda had told him, Héctor had felt a little worried. He couldn't help wondering had it been them. Had Imelda been so heartbroken and angry? Had he been so stupid and reckless? Had Victoria taken one look at their mess and decided she wanted none of it. Had they ruined love for their granddaughter?

 

“ You never found that person who made you a little crazy.” Héctor said as gently as he could.

 

Victoria had never loved someone the way he loved Imelda. Understanding that kind of love would be hard for her.

 

“Listen, I'm just saying... maybe this is what love is.... just putting the other person first and trying to give them what they need...and trying to make the happy.” He tried to explain.

 

Victoria's lip wobbled, and she turned away from him again abruptly, arms crossed.

 

“If I can make Imelda happy, then that’s all I want. If I can make my family happy - that's enough for me.” he took a step closer to her. “Maybe that's not enough for you. That's okay, kiddo . If you want my advice, I think you've got to seek out what will be enough for you. You've got to find what makes you happy, so you can go back home too.”

 

Maybe this wasn't the time to bring it up, but they were already in the middle of a big fight. Héctor may as well put it out there. Héctor was worried about Victoria. She wasn't even looking for a way to get back to the otherside. She'd been in such a strange mood since New Years. He didn't want to _puff_ off and leave her on her own.

 

“Have you even thought about what might send you back?” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder.

 

She wrenched away from him, yelling, “Listen Héctor, you did nothing but make _poor life choices_ which eventually led to you getting murdered when you were only 21! So no! I'm not taking life advice from you!”

 

Then she stomped away.

 

-0-

 

Héctor tried making shoes for six days. He wasn't naturally talented at it, at all, but he went slowly and methodically followed all the steps Elena showed him. His shoes turned out pretty good for a beginner. He had listened to her closely. He really was trying his best. Elena admired him for that.

 

Héctor filled the workshop with such a restless energy. He was obviously bored by the monotony of the tasks. He was always tapping, or humming, or drumming his fingers or playing with the knobs of different machinery. Elena was irritated with him for this.

 

Héctor was constantly staring off into space when he should be working. He was more dazed and confused than a sloth that had been slapped in the face with a mackerel. To make matters worse, his presence in the workshop had attracted Miguel, Benny and Manny.

 

These three boys had never shown that much interest in making shoes when Elena wanted to show them, but now Héctor was doing it, shoe-making was _suddenly cool?!_ The children would wander in, wanting to play with Héctor. He'd pick up Benny, or Manny and put them on his lap to better show them what he was doing, while Miguel hovered.

 

Miguel was always talking a mile a minute about school or the guitar, or music, or his dimple, or his new running technique, or wrestling, or that street dog that had now taken to living in her house, or what his friend Alejandro had said, or if you drop soap on the floor – does that make that one little bit of floor clean or is the soap now dirty? Or who closes the bus door when the bus driver gets off?

 

Héctor listened seriously to Miguel. He thought the soap was now dirty, because you'd wipe up the floor and rinse the soap, wouldn't you? He had no idea about the bus door conundrum. He assumed the bus driver would have some future gadget, but he couldn't be sure. The future had a lot of technology he didn't quite understand. Héctor really wanted to know how inventors knew what time it was when they first invented the clock.

 

 _Dios mio!_ What nonsense had Elena invited into her workspace?

 

Elena suddenly had a great appreciation for the fact that Miguel wanted to be a musician and not a shoe-maker. She loved Miguel so dearly, but she did not know if she could put up with this nonsense all day, everyday. At least he was back in school now, and for six hours Elena could hear herself think – if it wasn't for all that humming and tapping.

 

In the end, it surprised no one when Héctor got injured. Benny had been fascinated by Héctor's hammering of the sole. Héctor let him 'have a turn' – _idiot musician._ He moved Benny to his lap, and gave him the hammer, telling him where to whack, and held the shoe in place. Benny didn't have the best co-ordination, but he did have a lot of enthusiasm for whacking things with hammers – as any little boy would. He whacked Héctor square in the centre of his palm.

 

Of course he did. He was six.

 

They were all treated to Héctor's trying-not-to-swear-in-front-of-a-small-child dance. Héctor moved Benny back to the floor, and stood up. He sucked his breath in through his teeth, holding his palm gingerly, and stamping his foot, while Benny apologised.

 

“It's okay, Chamaco. It's not that bad.” Héctor said, through gritted teeth, like the total liar he was.

 

It actually was that bad, whether that fool musician would admit it or not. Héctor liked to pretend nothing hurt him, but Elena had heard the crack. She knew what that meant. She sighed deeply, stood up, took Héctor's other arm and pulled him towards the car to drive him to the hospital.

 

-0-

 

Victoria decided she wanted to come with them. She'd heard what had happened, and had appeared by the car, with an ice-pack for Héctor's hand.

 

“Sorry for all those things I said the other day Héctor.” She said in a clipped tone as she hopped in the backseat.

 

“Oh, it's okay Victoria. There's no hard feelings. Thanks for coming with us.” Héctor said with a good-natured little shrug. He was evidentially used to Victoria's gruff manner of apologising.

 

“Really, I'm just coming so I can see how bad the damage is. You might even have to get an x-ray. It's been _so long_ since I've seen bones.” her tone was wistful, longing.

 

“I know right. Bodies are so squishy and get hurt so easily. Sometimes, I miss being a skeleton.” Héctor said in the exact same tone of voice.

 

Elena kept her comments to herself. Re-animateds were _weird_ sometimes, especially about bodies and bodily functions. Victoria and Héctor were talking properly for the first time since their fight. Héctor had been trying to give her 'space' – whatever that meant. Elena didn't want to interrupt them.

 

“Me too.” Victoria's cheeky smile flashed in the rearview mirror. “No one knew I had your ridiculous jug-ears when I was a skeleton.”

 

“Please, everyone here thinks I'm your son. I could start telling people I got my jug-ears _from you_!” Héctor sassed back.

 

Victoria laughed. “Awfully rude of me to give you crappy eyesight and gangly height as well.” She replied, and she reached over and poked him in the shoulder.

 

They teased and poked each other for most of the drive. When they got to the the doctor's office, they had to sit in the waiting room. Héctor and Victoria sat next to each other. Elena pretended to read a magazine, but she couldn't drown out their conversation.

 

Victoria was trying to explain why she had gotten so angry at him. “I guess I was angry when you took a cheap shot at me about never getting married. Literally everyone else in the family would get on my case about it, but I never thought _you_ would. I thought you'd always be on my side.”

 

“I am on your side.” Héctor insisted. “I wasn't trying to get on your case about it. I was just worried that it was my fault somehow.”

 

“How on earth is my lack of husband your fault?”

 

“Well, me and Imelda – it didn't work out so great when we were alive. You would have only seen her be angry and bitter at me, and that’s my fault for leaving..and I was worried we put you off love.”

 

“Héctor – not everything is _about you,_ you know.” Victoria jostled his shoulder. “Not everything is your fault. You and Mama Imelda's drama is not the reason I didn't get married. I saw love. Mama Coco and Papa Julio. My parents - they loved each other so much.”

 

She looked out the window and inhaled deeply. She turned back to Héctor, lowering her voice. She was about to tell a secret.

 

“I know what love is. I did have someone I loved that way.”

 

“You had a lover?” Héctor asked, all excited curiosity.

 

Victoria nodded.

 

“And they loved you back?”

 

Victoria nodded again.

 

“ Why didn't you get married? If you love them and they loved you?” Héctor asked, keen for all the details.

 

“ It wasn't in the cards for me. I loved someone I couldn't get married to.”

 

“Because they were already married... _no,_ because they were a priest...” Héctor started guessing wildly.

 

“I didn't say I loved a man.” Victoria confessed in a small voice.

 

Elena knew – of course she did. She had kept her sister's secret her whole life. She'd been the first and only person Victoria had ever told. This made Héctor the second. Victoria clearly hadn't told anyone on the otherside either.

 

Héctor's mouth dropped open in surprise. He looked left. He looked right. He looked back at Victoria. “Oh...you mean... _oh..._ ” His eyes widened as the peso dropped for him. “That's great!” He said very enthusiastically.

 

Victoria made a face at him.

 

“ Wait...is that not great?” Héctor tried back-tracking.

 

Victoria nodded, then averted her eyes. She wouldn't look at him.

 

“Victoria, I think that's great.” Héctor said firmly, putting his hand on her shoulder encouragingly. “Thank you for telling me. I'm glad you had a girlfriend. I'm glad you got to love someone and be loved.”

 

Victoria turned in her chair abruptly and hugged Héctor wordlessly, smushing her face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rubbed her back. Her shoulders were shaking. “Hey now, it's okay kiddo. It's okay now.” Héctor started murmuring soothingly to her. Victoria began to haul off then. She was now clearly crying. It was like a dam had burst inside her, and all her tears were coming out. Héctor pulled her closer and hugged her tightly, whispering more soft, comforting things. He gave her a little kiss on her temple.

 

Elena hadn't been as kind and gentle when Victoria had come out to her. She wished she had reacted differently to her sister's secret now.

 

Elena knew what the world was. She knew how unkind the world could be to people like her sister. Her sister couldn't change, but maybe she could _hide_ it. “Don't tell anyone else! No one will ever understand!” Elena had urged. She'd wanted to protect her sister from the cold, harsh reality of the world. But in doing so, she had been cold and harsh herself.

 

And her sensitive sister hadn't ever told another soul– until now.

 

Héctor was understanding, reassuring, and clearing extremely intrigued. He comforted her sister until she had regained her composure. Then he started asking her a million questions, like he was the town gossip in the plaza after a particular scandalous shenanigan had occurred. His enthusiasm and curiosity for Victoria's “girlfriend” knew no bounds. It brought a smile to her sister's face. She was clearly happy to confide in him.

 

“What was her name?”

 

“Adriana.”

 

“A beautiful name - Was she beautiful too?”

 

“Of course she was.”

 

“Ah, they always are! How did you two meet?”

 

“We had an epistolary love affair.”

 

Héctor looked confused. “You epistolled together?”

 

“We wrote love letters to each other Héctor.” Victoria explained.

 

“Ah, then I epistol to Imelda everyday.” Héctor said, waggling his eyebrows and winking.

 

“ _Gross,_ Héctor. “ Victoria said with a laugh, as she gave him a playful shove. “And that's not how you use that word.”

 

“Tell me about your epistolary lover. I really want to know.”

 

“She was a customer. We clicked straight away. I had to re-measure her feet at least eight times, I was so struck by her. I went all butter-fingers around her. But it meant we talked for most of the morning. She stayed to watch me get started on her shoes. I put so much effort into these shoes, you have no idea. They're the best pair I ever made. Adriana, she really loved the shoes I made. She wrote me a thank you note. I wrote back. We kept writing.”

 

“She came back into town a few months later, and we had a beautiful day together. She kissed me, and _wow. Dios mio,_ I was gone for her. I was actually going to see her when I died. It was my first holiday ever. We were going to meet up by the beach in Mazunte.”

 

Héctor was now beyond excited for her sister. “ Victoria, this is great!”

 

Victoria made a face at him.

 

“Not great that you died tragically in a bus crash on your way to meet you true love. That really sucks, kiddo...” he corrected. “ I'm just saying..maybe this Adriana is your unfinished business. You need to find this girl and declare your love and kiss her again!” Héctor declared.

 

“You're so dramatic, Héctor. It was just one kiss, years ago. Adriana can't be my unfinished business. So just, slow down.”

 

“No, I will not slow down. This will be our _new plan - ”_ Victoria looked clearly apprehensive at his words and tone. “- I'll get my hand fixed and make shoes, and you can find this Adriana and kiss her again, and then _puff_ – we both go home!”

 

“Jeez, Héctor don't you know your plans never work out!”

 

-0-

 

What Héctor needs to stop doing:

 

  * Fiddling with the bandage on his hand.

  * Declaring that his hand is “all better.”

  * Getting into arguments with Elena about this. Arguments that end with Elena shouting “You put that bandage back where it belongs or so help me!”

  * Encouraging Victoria to find her lost lover.

  * Giving Victoria always well-meaning, frequently absurd and occasionally really terrible love advice.

  * Enlisting Enrique's help with his ridiculousness.

  * Getting Enrique to 'google' _Adrianas who live in Mexico and like shoes._

  * Making awful jokes that are actually puns on shoe parts.

  * Drumming his fingers on every single countertop in the workshop.

  * Stabbing his fingers accidentally with his stitching needles.

  * Doing his trying-not-to-swear-because-there-are-children-nearby dance.

  * Staring absentmindedly out the window and humming.

  * Pretending he really wanted to be a shoe-maker.

 




 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout out to people who picked up on f/f tag and knew this was coming for our lovely Victoria. Title is taken from Macklemore's 'Same love' because I am that cheesy. Victoria would always have ride-or-die support from Hector, and now she knows it too. He's a very open-minded person and just wants his family to be happy, so I thought he was a good person to help Victoria begin to feel that familial acceptance for something she's been hiding her whole life. I hope I did the scene justice. 
> 
> Mazunte is a pretty beachside town/district in Oaxaca, with a more free-spirited, arty, hippy vibe, turtle breeding program, amazing surf and beautiful beaches. 
> 
> Thanks for all the support and your kind comments!


	6. I had a feeling like I belonged...

 -0-

The broken bones in Héctor's hand actually healed up freakishly quickly. Elena had taken him back to the doctor's after only two days, just to prove her point, shut him up and stop his nonsense. But the X-ray showed that it was completely better, as if it had never been broken.

“I told you it was all better.” Héctor said cheekily.

A brave I-told-you-so. No one said “I-told-you-so” to Elena.

Héctor felt her wrath.

He wont be doing that again.

“We know so little about re-animated physiology. Would you mind if I ask you some more questions and submit this as a paper at my conference coming up?” Dr Torrez asked Héctor, cutting into Elena's haranguing. Héctor agreed readily, realising that answering Dr Torrez's questions would be better than dealing with Elena at this particular moment.

“How long did it take before your hand started feeling better?”

“About six hours.”

“How did you know it was healed?......”

-0-

The boys had gone to watch Abel's football team play. Abel was the goalie. It was his first time in the position, and he'd seemed a little nervous. Berto brought Miguel, Benny, Manny and Héctor along for moral support. They all cheered Abel on. His team won by one goal.

Berto said he'd been talking to the other dads when it happened. He was frantic on the other end of the phone. Elena had to calm him down before she could get him to tell her what had happened.

Abel, Héctor and the kids had gone off to kick the ball around. Abel was trying to teach Manny and Benny how to play. They were pretending to be goalies like their big brother. They'd been doing over exaggerated 'saves' and throwing themselves on the ground to stop the balls that Abel, Miguel and Héctor would kick towards them.

A wild shot. The ball bouncing on the road. Manny running off after it. Héctor screaming “Manny, No!” and moving with his ridiculous speed on his long legs. The terrible sound of screeching tires. A crunch and a thud. Manny was completely unharmed, aside from wailing in fright. Héctor had pushed him out of the way just in time.

Héctor was now lying still on the road.

  
-0-

Abel and Héctor were riding in the ambulance together. Papa was staying with the little kids. He'd drop them home first then come to the hospital. But someone from the family needed to go with Héctor in the ambulance.

Miguel had been so distraught. He really wanted to go with Héctor, but papa had been firm. Miguel was too young for this crap. Abel was an adult. He was a grown up. But it still made Abel feel like a scared little kid to see Héctor all messed up.

Héctor's arm definitely should not have been at that angle. His leg was sticking up weirdly. He'd been bleeding from the ear when they'd loaded him onto the stretcher. Abel knew that was bad. The paramedic had given Héctor the good drugs. He was a little spacey, but still awake. Abel had no idea how he wasn't dead. The impact alone should have killed even a zombie.

“You move pretty fast for a dead guy.” Abel said, trying for a brisk, cheerful tone.

“What can I say, I should have been an athlete.” Héctor said, with a lazy smile.

“You'd make a pretty good goalie. That was a nice save.” Abel hated the way his voice quivered.

Abel tried to hold it in. It wasn't manly to cry. He was 20 years old and a man now. That was too grown up to cry – but he just felt so bad and guilty and frightened. Manny had nearly died. If it hadn't been for Héctor and his ancient dad-reflexes, Manny would be dead.

“Hey, what's this amigo? What's wrong?” Abel felt Héctor's hand reach for his.

“It was my fault. I kicked it too wide.” Abel said in a small voice, squeezing Héctor's fingers back. He'd nearly got his tiny, little baby brother killed. He'd been too slow to do anything except watch in horror.

“No Abel. Wasn't your fault. It was just a stupid accident.” Héctor said sluggishly.

They bounced over a pothole and Héctor winced, making a hissing sound as he inhaled sharply through his teeth.

“Hey, can you up the morphine for him? He's in pain!” Abel shouted to the paramedic.

Suddenly, the heart monitor started wailing, Héctor's eyes closed and his hand slipped from Abel's grasp. The paramedics leapt into action.

“He's coding!”

-0-

“So I have bad news, good news and strange news.” Dr Torrez announced.

Elena had sent Berto and Abel home as soon as it became clear that Héctor was alive and would continue to live. They were both clearly too shaken. Berto wanted to be with his twin boys and cuddle them close.

It was Elena, Franco, Victoria, Enrique and Miguel who gathered around to hear what Doctor Torrez had to say. Elena had not wanted Miguel here. She thought he was too young for this kind of hospital visit. She didn't want to traumatise him. But Miguel had simply refused to stay at home. He had insisted that he had seen worse and a hospital visit wouldn't traumatise him - it would help him. He had been exceptionally difficult. He'd been so adamant that he needed to see Héctor, and eventually Elena had relented against her better judgement.

“Well, the bad news is that he has broken or fractured a large amount of the bones on the left side of his body. He has shattered his femur and ulna. He is also suffering from head trauma, severe blunt force trauma and internal bleeding. The good news is that he's still alive. The strange news is that he really should be dead...er again. He should have been killed instantly, he should have died several times in the ambulance, but he's alive and the damage seems to be repairing itself.”

“What do you mean?” Enrique asked.

“We're actually seeing, in real-time, his bones knitting back together.” Dr Torrez said, sounding _inappropriately excited,_ given the situation. “Would you mind terribly if I added this latest development to my paper?”

“Sure, whatever” Enrique waved the question off. “But what does that mean for Héctor?”

“As far as I can tell, this is related to his status as a re-animated. We know so little about how re-animated physiology works. I hypothesise it's like the haircuts things – but more extreme...”

You couldn't cut a re-animated's hair. It just grew back the same as it had always been overnight. Their appearance remained unchanging from the day they came back. Elena had found this out the hard way, after several attempts to tame Héctor's hair.

“...their bodies seem to repair themselves, even in cases of damage this severe. It seems they can't die... _again._ Your relative really shouldn't be alive, but the internal bleeding and head trauma is righting itself right before our eyes."

"We can monitor him here until he's stable. After that point he can either stay here or you can take him home to recover. If his metacarpals repaired themselves within six hours, then I imagine within a few weeks he should be back to normal. I can do house-calls to monitor his progress.”

“When can we take him home?” Victoria asked, bouncing on her heels in a distressed fashion.

“I estimate a few hours. I must warn you. Even though he's a re-animated, he does feel the pain of his injuries. We've been keeping him comfortable with morphine here. You'll need to continue that at home.”  
  
-0-  
  
“Elena! My beautiful, strong, elegant, wise, brave, gracious granddaughter, you are back!” Héctor said with a wide, dopey smile as she entered.

Héctor had become even more expressive than he normally was with the morphine. He had taken to elaborately complimenting everyone who visited him. He had told Gloria she was like a beautiful and radiant tropical fish. Gloria hadn't quite known how to take that.

Elena suspected it was actually a comment on Gloria's outfit. Some of her dresses were so brightly coloured and had patterns so loud they gave Elena tinnitus. In Héctor's defence, he was on a buttload of morphine. Gloria probably looked like she'd escaped from Finding Nemo when she'd strolled in wearing the orange and white stripped dress.

“I am. I have brought you soup. It's got extra calcium in it.” Elena said, as she placed the meal on the table next to him.

“Thank you. Mi terroncito de azúcar, you are so sweet to me.” Héctor said, smiling lazily as he tried to sit up. Elena turned to go. “Wait. Will you stay? Talk to me.” he pleaded. “I get lonely.”

“Héctor, you are ridiculous and I have things to do.” Elena's response was gruff. It was the fifth day of this. Now Héctor could sit up on his own and feed himself. He didn't need her to babysit him. All the jobs she'd let pile up while she tended to him commanded her attention now.

“Okay, so go then. I know you hate me and all, and you don't owe me anything ...” He said softly, but Elena still heard him from the door.

He was so wrong that Elena had to stride back in and correct him.

“I don't hate you Héctor.” She insisted.

He seemed very confused by this statement. Bamboozled. Flummoxed. But then he smiled widely at her. He was high as a kite right now. He'd probably smile at whatever she said.

“You made me shoes.”

“I did.”

“You made me shoes and I don't understand.”

Elena really did have many things she needed to be doing, but she couldn't help herself. She sat on the bed next to him and settled in for a chat. “What don't you understand about shoes?” She asked patiently.

“I want shoes to be the thing. You know. Shoes means you're part of the family. I want shoes to be the thing that sends me back, and I thought if I just learn how to make them, then I can be with Imelda again.” he paused here, wrinkling his forehead and thinking hard. “But shoes aren't right for me.” he confessed softly.

“Why do you say that?'

“It should have happened for me by now. Shouldn’t it? If shoes were right for me, I should puff.” He mimed the flower explosions that accompanied a re-animated's return to the Land of the Dead. His was wiggling his fingers like he was trying to do jazz-hands from those old Ernesto De La Cruz movies. He became entranced by his wiggling fingers and stared at them, fascinated. Then he giggled.

“Héctor.” Elena prompted, trying to bring him back to reality.

“Sorry, what was I saying?”

“Shoes aren't right for you.” She prompted.

“Riiiight. Shoes aren't working. Why do you think I still here, Elena?” He asked her bluntly, like he really cared about her answer.

“I don't know.” Elena said simply. He looked crestfallen. “Maybe you were meant to stay so you could save my Manny,” she offered after a moment.

Héctor beamed docilely at her, clearly proud of himself. “I saved Manny.”

“You did.” Elena agreed. “He's fine. A little shaken, but fine. He's strong.”

“You're strong. You take after her. Imelda.”

Elena felt a little put on the spot. She didn't quite know how to take that, and she hadn't even been called a tropical fish.

“What was my Imelda like when you were a girl?” Héctor asked, all open curiosity.

Elena toyed with the edge of the blanket and collected her thoughts. Mama Imelda hadn't been perfect, Elena knew that now. Sure, Mama Imelda had her faults, but she had loved them fiercely. She'd had such a hard life and she'd risen above it with amazing strength, elegance and grace. Elena had always admired her and tried to be as like her as possible.

“Mama Imelda. She was amazing. I loved her. I idolised her, you know. She was so fierce and brave. She took care of all of us. She held us all together. She always wanted the best for us. She made me feel safe. She'd never do anything to hurt us...” Elena paused as she thought of Victoria. Mama Imelda would have never intended to hurt Victoria with her strict manner, but Victoria had been a free spirit that resented being hemmed in. They had clashed. “... not deliberately at least.”

“She hurt me.”

Elena looked up in surprise at such a frank, honest statement from Héctor. He didn't dress it up with a smile, or make a joke, or pretend he wasn't upset. Maybe she'd given him too much morphine, for him to be saying things like this.

“I was _so alone_ for so long. I missed her so much. But when she came, she just hated me. She was so angry and she _wouldn't listen_ and....” he trailed off here and looked down sadly.

“Sometimes I worry. I can be the same way.” Elena said, figuring she may as well say it to someone, and that someone may as well be Héctor – now that they were being honest with each other.

“I think, for me, I used to find listening, really listening, so tricky. Sometimes, I would find things difficult to hear and I would get so mad. I don't mean to, but I push people away. I get aggressive and unreasonable – just like her. I did it with Miguel and music. I'm the reason he ran away.” She said in a small voice.

Héctor seemed little more focused now. Probably because she'd said 'music'. That always got his attention. He was watching her curiously, waiting for her to continue.

“Miguel had made his own guitar out of scrap wood, and when he tried to tell me how much he loved music, the first time he tried to play for us, _I smashed it._ I smashed that guitar, right in front of him, until I made him cry.” She confessed, swallowing the lump of guilt in her throat. “ He looked so sad. I felt so bad about it, but I never found the words to apologise properly.”

“Miguel forgives you. He loves you.” Héctor said quickly, trying to reassure her even now.

“Do you forgive Mama Imelda?” Elena asked softly, very curious about the truth.

Héctor had no filter at the moment, after all. She really wondered what he thought about the whole thing; the music ban, being ignored and rejected for 96 years. Elena hadn't even known Héctor 's name until Miguel's little adventure. Miguel explained the catastrophic consequences of being forgotten and what had nearly happened to Héctor. He'd insisted they talk about Héctor all the time with Mama Coco.

Ernesto may have been the one who murdered Héctor in his first life, but Mama Imelda was the one who assumed the worst about him and ripped him out of the family, nearly for good. Elena was surprised he wasn't more angry about it.

“I love her so much. I am never mad at her. She's all fire and passion. She has so much fight and stubbornness in her. I know who I married, and it was my fault for never coming back,” Héctor said sincerely, taking all the blame on himself for the whole sorry situation. He just seemed sad and regretful.

Elena didn't think Héctor was going to say anything else about it, but he bit his lip, hesitant, and then added “...but it did hurt. _It hurt me_ right here, deep in my heart -” he tapped his chest for emphasis, “- it hurt so much when I thought nobody wanted me. For nearly one hundred years no one cared about me or wanted me or loved me. That hurt me, feeling so rejected and hated by this family... by my own family.” His voice grew thick with so many different emotions.

If Elena were the person she used to be, she would have abruptly told him to pull himself together and stop being so emotional. But she was changing. Instead she reached out and took his young, unlined hand in her own and gave it a squeeze. “You're part of the family Héctor. We will always want you around.” Elena said sincerely.

Even with the drugs, the smile Héctor flashed her then was ludicrously wide and joyful. It was almost heartbreaking how happy she'd made him just by saying something so simple.

“We did not know about you before, but now I know you, I'll make sure you are never left off the offrenda again. We will always have chapulines every Día de los Muertos.” She promised him.

“Really?” he asked hopefully.

“Really.”

“How come we never talked like this before?” He asked happily.

“The only reason we are talking like this now, Mi terroncito de azúcar,” She said, using his ridiculous pet name with a smile, “is because you are so stupidly high on morphine right now, you won't remember a word of this conversation.” she said, reaching out to cup his chin affectionately with her palm.

She'd never be able to talk to him like this when he was properly alert. She didn't want him thinking she was going soft.

-0-

Victoria had been having a hard time sleeping since Héctor 's accident. She had taken to creeping in to see Héctor, in the small hours of the morning, just to talk to him and make sure he was okay. He couldn't walk or move very well right now, and if he needed anything, Victoria would get it for him.

Tonight, she'd 'borrowed' one of his morphine tablets. She sat next to him on the bed, legs out long and giggling to herself. She had wanted to know what morphine felt like - for science. Héctor had always been generous and willing to share. Now they were staying up having the craziest conversation. Even though her brain felt foggy and bouncy but sleepy at the same time, Victoria decided she'd stay awake until Héctor fell asleep again, to keep him company. He got lonely.

Victoria knew Héctor was tough, but she still worried all the same. He'd broken many bones and always managed to pull himself together again on the otherside, but she hadn't been there to see that. He'd been all on his own when he healed up on the otherside. Héctor said breaking bones when he was alive felt very different to breaking bones when he was already dead.

"It's _so weird._ Bodies are so squishy and _everything hurts_ in this new weird way. I got hurt so many times on the otherside. I've broken nearly every bone in my body - _but never all of them at the same time_ ...and never while I was alive to really feel it." Héctor lamented. "Being hit by a car really hurts. I had no idea it would hurt this much."

"If you'd known, would you still have done it?"

"Of course! If a car mangled me this badly, and I'm an adult who can't die, can you imagine what it would have done to poor little Manny?"

"At least they give you this sweet morphine to take the edge off. This is amazing. I'm floating on a marshmellow ...and look at my fingers!"

Victoria wiggled her hands infront of her face, fascinated by them. They were more than just bones. There was skin and nerves and muscles. She had fingerprints and nails again. Wow. Hands were weird, but so interesting. She studied hers closely.

" My hands are huge!" She exclaimed in surprise after looking at them for a long moment. "Do I get this from you? Are your hands huge?"

Héctor held his hand up for Victoria to compare. They touched palms together, spreading their fingers wide. Their hands looked the same. Héctor 's were bigger, but they had the same palm shape and same long fingers.

"Ah. Same again, my son! You and your crap genes. These hands are big enough to be boxing gloves!"

"Big hands are good for playing the guitar."

"Good for other things as well." Victoria said with a sly little nod.

"Imelda used to like it when I would...."

"No, Héctor ! _Gross!_ I don't want to know!" Victoria said, very worried about where that sentence was going. She did not need to know what Héctor did with his big hands to make Mama Imelda happy. They were her grandparents.

"...Open all the jars for her." Héctor finished, using his 'there are children present voice'.

"So that was your function as her husband? Light entertainment and jar opening?"

"Pretty much. Don't know why else she would have kept me around." Héctor said with a smile and half a shrug. He could only shrug his right shoulder.

Victoria gave him a little teasing shove. Héctor winced a little, but didn't otherwise let on that she had hurt him. Five broken ribs, Victoria remembered belatedly. She felt a flush of guilt. She'd have to stop jostling and shoving him. Héctor had been hurt so much before, but he always acted like it was no big deal. Victoria wasn't going to hurt him again. She was going to be gentle with her grandpa.

"How many times have you broken bones?" She asked him after a moment.

"I lost count. It was a lot." Héctor replied nonchalantly, with another little shrug. "I had 96 years of poorly planned dumb flower bridge crossing attempts, after all." He explained with a rueful smile.

"I've never broken a bone, not living or dead. What does it feel like? Does it hurt?" Victoria was curious.

"When you're a skeleton, it hurts a lot. When you're alive it hurts much much more..." Héctor looked down at his own hands, not facing her as he spoke "...and you kind of want to die a little because it hurts so much...and then you _do die_... You die four times in an ambulance and three times in intensive care....but you keep coming back to life...and Abel cries the first time it happens, but he seems used to it by the fifth... Then he says 'it's great you're a warm bodies zombie'...and you feel irritated at him about this. But you _die again_ before you can correct him and tell him how wrong he is. Then Dr Torrez asks you a million questions...and you try to answer them without freaking out....But you are freaking out because you've suddenly realised there is no easy way back to the otherside...You can _die seven times_ but still be alive... " Héctor balled his hands into fists, clearly a little frustrated with this situation.

"And then - then you'll realise you're kind of stuck here...and you wont know how to feel about that, because you have been trying to get back to the land of the living for even longer than you were alive...96 years...I tried for 96 years, and now I'm stuck here!" He turned back to face her now.

Victoria was staring at him, mouth slightly open in surprise. She had no idea what to say in the wake of this torrent of very real and honest words from Héctor . She knew the morphine made him more honest and more talkative, but still! She had just asked him how it felt to break a bone. She had never expected this!

"...And I love this family _so much._..and it's not so bad, being stuck....I get to see Miguel and Rosa and Abel and the twins and little baby Coco grow up... I get to help everyone relax. It seems like everyone was so tense before...you know....music ban and all...I hate thinking that Imelda and Coco never got to have music and fun in there lives because I wasn't there...."

"I can take care of my Coco...well, I can't now because I've broken every bone on the left side of my body and I can't lift her right now. Besides, Elena says it upsets Coco too much to see me so injured and...anyway...as soon as I'm better, I'll look after her again..."

"Unless I puff back? But I have no idea how to do that...and I've been trying so hard but I don't know anymore...What else can I do?...What am I meant to do? ... _We don't belong here Victoria._..we're meant to be on the otherside..."

"...and Imelda is waiting for me. She needs me and I need her and I miss her so much. _I promised her I'd never leave her again_ and...She's not as tough as everyone thinks. She's smushy mushy marshmellow underneath, really...and she gets so sad on her own and I never want to make her sad. She's still the only person in the whole wide world who never laughed at me. It feels like my heart is torn between two places" Héctor tapped his chest in the centre for extra emphasis "...because I want to be here with my family but I also want to be there with her..."

"The bastard next to me in intensive care got to just _die normally_ and he was old and he had his family around him, and nobody murdered him when he was 21 and he got to go peacefully... and then he got to _stay dead._...he's already in the land of the dead and he can talk to Imelda and he's probably talking to Imelda right now... _I die seven times and I am still here!"_

Héctor seemed to have finally run out of steam. He inhaled deeply and sighed, before going a little red in the cheeks. He gave her a rueful little smile and concluded with "...and that's what it's like to break a bone...well, actually, to break all the bones."

"Héctor , are you okay?"

"Of course. I'm always okay." His smile was back on again. Even through all the morphine, he seemed embarrassed to have said so much to her. " Look, now I can do this again." He said cheerfully, trying to distract her. He popped his right shoulder out of the socket and wiggled it. "When I was a skeleton, I could break myself apart and do all these crazy moves that you just can't do in a human body - but now, look at this." He did something that disjointed his elbow so it could bend backwards.

"That's pretty gross Héctor ."

Victoria remembered being both disgusted and fascinated by this trick. She wanted to try and paint it, to catch this moment. She wanted to take the raw honesty, the pain, the love and the sense of family and belonging that she felt in this room and put in on a canvas so she could keep it forever.

She got her art supplies and tried, but the morphine made all the colours swirl and move before her. Héctor stayed awake for a little longer, before he fell into a deep sleep. Victoria kept painting. She filled her canvas and then started using random scraps of paper from around the room. Her pictures were wildly colourful, and very interpretive. She liked them. She suddenly really wanted her dad to see them. She loved her papa. Sometimes talking to Héctor made her really miss her papa.

It wasn't quite dawn. No one else was awake. She crept downstairs and found Dante. Mighty Xolo dog. He could easily cross between the worlds. Victoria wondered if her could do it, even though it wasn't Dia De Los Muertas and there wouldn't be a bridge. Perhaps it was the morphine, making her believe in impossible things or perhaps it was the fact that she finally had pictures turning out the way she liked, but she was going to try anyway. Spirit copies couldn't come back from the otherside into this world, but things from the land of the living were the origins of all spirit copies. Victoria thought they'd make it as long as she tied them on right, and Dante didn't eat them.

She took her smallest paintings, One had been on the back of one of Héctor 's attempts at a writing a letter (It was ludicuroisuly large and incredibly messy scribbling about how much he loved and missed Imelda and how much being hit by a car had hurt). The other one was on the back of one of the recent x-ray envelopes. She wrote her father a quick note. Writing was really hard now. The letters and words wouldn't stay still and she ended up writing larger than Héctor normally did, just so she could see it.

PAPA I LOVE YOU. I LOVE EVERYONE.  
I AM ARTIST NOW.  
I LoVE ARt. HeRE PICTUrE FOR YOU.  
I HOPE YOU LIKE PICTURE.  
I PAINT. IT MAKE ME HaPPY.  
WE OKAY. BUT We STUCK HERE.

HécTOR SAD. He WAnt TO BE BAcK wiTH MAMA IMELDA.  
TeLL MAMA IMELDA HéCTOR LOVE HER AND MISS HER.  
FAMILY IS TAKING GOOD CARE OF US.  
I LOVE THEM.  
I LOVe You.

VICTORIA.

She folded her note and her two paintings and attached them to Dante's collar. He stayed still. Good boy. He was such a good boy. She got a scarf and tied it over the top to keep everything on his neck and together. He looked pretty now. Pretty dog.

"Take this to my papa, Dante." Victoria said, and sent him off in the pre-dawn light.

The sun was rising at last.

-0-

Mama Imelda was judging her.

Elena remembered Victoria's words from the day they had coffee in the plaza.

_I really hope we send him back before he breaks any more bones. Mama Imelda will kill me if I send him back injured._

Victoria was right – they were in so much trouble! If Héctor puffed back now, Mama Imelda would be furious! Elena could feel the eyes in the family portrait from across the courtyard. She started avoiding walking past the offrenda room.

Elena wanted to smack herself. She wasn't a little girl sneaking sweets from the jar any more. She was a grown woman and shouldn't worry about being in trouble from Mama Imelda.

She went in and saw the ridiculous pile of letters. One for every day. Would Mama Imelda even be able to carry this huge amount of paper across a giant marigold bridge? Elena could make it neater for her, at least. Elena got some ribbon and tied them up neatly, so they were in an orderly stack, and there was a little handle. She added her own to the top.

She couldn't believe she was actually doing this; writing to Mama Imelda. It felt awkward and uncomfortable, this one way writing. Elena had never been good at putting her thoughts and feelings into words. But there was a big gap in Héctor's letters now, and she knew Mama Imelda would want to know why. Originally she planned to just write a brief explanatory note.

  
_Dear Mama Imelda,_

_It is Elena. There is a little gap in Héctor's letters because...._

Elena paused. Mama Imelda was not going to like the truth, but she would hate a lie even more. Still Elena could soften it, leave out the gory details, the full extent of his injuries. No need to write shattered bones, or blunt force trauma, or technically he died four times in the ambulance and we all have no idea how on earth he's still here and breathing. He really should be back with you, but it looks like we'll be keeping him for a little longer.

_... he was recently hit by a car saving Manny. He's recovering, but is in no fit state to write at the moment. He's going to be fine. I'm taking good care of him._

Elena paused again. There was something she wanted to say to Mama Imelda. It wasn't a wise thing to say, but it was honest. She was getting better at honestly saying how she felt. She could be brave and do it now.

_You had extremely bizarre taste in men, but I can see why you loved him. He loves you so much. He's been trying so hard to get home to you. Please be kind to him when he gets back._

_I hold you in my heart._

_Love,_

_Elena._

-0-

“So, in conclusion, based on the data I have collected, I now think it is safe to assume that the re-animated are in a state of 'suspended animation'. They do not age. They do not change or grow and they cannot die. Their bodies will naturally repair any damage done to them, from haircuts to shattered femurs. They will always heal and reset themselves back to the original state of their re-animation. This also explains why we had seen no advancement of disease in re-animated who suffered from degenerative illness....any questions?”

“Is the re-animated Héctor Rivera you studied the _famous_ Héctor Rivera? You know, the musician from Santa Cecilia who really wrote all of Ernesto De La Cruz's greatest songs and was then tragically murdered when he was in his twenties?”

“Yes, I believe he is.”

-0-  
  
The family all loved having Héctor time, even though now Héctor time was spent trying to entertain him and make him feel better while he recovered. He was constantly visited by everyone, except for Mama Coco.

Mama Coco wasn’t doing as well without Héctor to look after her every day. She didn’t seem to understand when Elena had tried to explain why he wasn’t coming to play the guitar for her. Elena had taken her to see her Papa when they first brought him home, but this had been a mistake. Mama Coco had found the sight of him, all unconscious and injured, very distressing. Now Elena just relayed news of his progress to Mama Coco.

Gloria and Berto had been very insistent on constantly thanking Héctor - but because of the morphine and Héctor 's tendency to repeat himself and forget what was just said, these conversations could easily fall into an unbreakable cycle of repetition.

The twins would just snuggle against him like little puppies looking for reassurance, avoiding his left side where all the damage was. They'd sing the nonsense songs Héctor had made up for them.

Luisa would bring little Coco to him. Coco was crawling now, and Luisa would put her on the bed so she could crawl over to her great, great grandpa and they could both coo over what a big, clever girl she was. Héctor would cuddle little Coco to his good side and kiss her all over her face while she giggled in delight.

Gloria and Luisa both had gotten…very maternal towards Héctor. They had both started treating him the same way they'd treat Abel or Miguel when those boys were sick. They'd bring him Oaxaca hot chocolates, (They'd actually bring him anything he wanted, but Héctor mostly asked for hot chocolates), read to him, ruffle his hair and call him a wide variety of cute little pet names, much to his endless confusion. Héctor clearly wasn’t used to being mothered and fussed over.

Enrique would bring his laptop so he and Héctor could watch movies that were (in Enrique's opinion) actually good. Enrique also started bringing the blue-tooth speaker and his phone, so he could play music from spotify for Héctor . He started trying to teach Héctor about the sort of music he liked, so that Héctor knew more songs outside Miguel’s taste. According to Enrique, Miguel had very teenage boy taste in music, but his taste was mature and sensible.

Elena thought Enrique trying to educate Héctor on the history of music would be like the blind-leading-the-blind. However, it became clear to Elena that Enrique must have been enjoying music on the side, at least when he had been a young man. When she confronted him, he confessed that he’d been sneaking off to friend's houses so he could hear the latest songs when he was a teenager…and a young man…and really, up until a year ago, it was one of the main reasons why he hung out with Julio every Friday.

Rosa would play her violin and read to him. Franco would talk deeply and philosophically to Héctor , who was a very willing and enthusiastic audience. Abel did this too – and this surprised Elena greatly. She didn’t think her Zombie-movie and football loving grandson had that much philosophy in him.

Victoria would visit in the middle of the night to joke and talk sarcastically, or to paint vivid swirls on her canvases. Vibrantly coloured pictures now filled the room.

Miguel, however, was the most obsessed with trying to make Héctor feel better. He was constantly accused of using up more than his fair share of Héctor time. He was always sneaking in to play the guitar for Héctor, or talk to Héctor – even though talking to Héctor right now was like talking to an exceptionally friendly, curious, scatterbrained and expressive labradoodle puppy. Héctor was always asking Miguel weird questions.

_What language would you think in if you were deaf?_

_Can a blind person see in their dreams?_

_When butterflies are nervous what do they get in their stomachs?_

_Can you die in a living room? And if someone dies in the living room – is it still the living room?_

Héctor was ridiculous, but he and Miguel would discuss these idiotic questions very seriously. So did Franco, to be honest. Whenever he had Héctor time, he would leave the room saying things like “My goodness, he's right! What if Dante keeps bringing the stick back because he thinks I like to throw it – but then I throw it for him because I think he likes to fetch it? Neither of us actually cares about the stick. We're both just trying to make each other happy!”

Dios Mio – who had she married?

Miguel and Héctor would discuss a weird question together, very seriously and philosophically. then Miguel would play the guitar loudly for Héctor , dancing about the room and showing off. Héctor would move to the music – which was something he was meant to avoid doing, because it could knock his bones out of alignment. Elena would storm in and scold them both. Héctor would ask Miguel a different weird question, and the cycle would repeat itself.

Dealing with Miguel on top of dealing with Héctor had become so troublesome that it had inspired Elena to write a new list.

Things Miguel needs to stop doing:

  * Getting under Elena's feet at all times.
  * Bringing that street dog who just happened to live in her house, eat her food, play with her family and sleep in her living room into Héctor ’s room all the time. (Elena still refused to call the street dog Dante – if she gave it a name it really would start to make itself at home.)
  * Claiming the street dog had healing properties and magical powers and was making Héctor feel better.
  * Insisting the street dog was a majestic alerbrije.
  * Pondering Héctor's stupid questions out loud rather than just telling Héctor to shut up. “ _Maybe butterflies get a smaller insect in their stomachs – like ants?”_ indeed.
  * Playing the guitar non-stop for their injured Héctor, even when he was asleep.
  * Claiming 'Un Poco Loco' also had healing properties and was making Héctor feel better faster.
  * Complaining loudly when Elena growled that he was making her more than “un poco” loco, took his guitar and put it on top of the bookcase in the living room.
  * Climbing on the bookcase to retrieve confiscated guitars.
  * Trying to sneak back in after being ejected from the room (after 45 renditions of 'Un Poco Loco'.)
  * Successfully sneaking in to see Héctor to check he's still alive, poking him until he groaned and then smiling widely, and playing the guitar again!



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! Massive thanks to everyone who leaves me feedback. It helps fuel the creative engine. This fic has gotten a little larger than I intended and has now overtaken our present time line, so this is a little glimpse at the future I guess. 
> 
> I have done a little renaming of the fic, but I am actually thinking of changing the name entirely to some song lyrics, as I feel like I'm on a roll with that. I'd go with either "Stuck in the middle with you" by stealers wheel or "Sat by the river and it made me complete" from somewhere only we know. Let me know if you have any thoughts about this. 
> 
> The title comes from Tracy Chapman's beautiful and frequently covered "fast car". This is part dry humour (cause a fast car causes all the drama), but partly my little nod to how different it would be for Hector to be surrounded by loving and caring family when he is hurt. He is used to licking his wounds and healing up all alone, and now he has a feeling of belonging and being cared for. 
> 
> So I had the adults be conscious of the fact that seeing huge accidents/death's door hospital visits can be quite distressing for kids. Miguel is only 13 and they want to protect him. In answer to a reviewer from a couple of chapters ago, I don't think Miguel would have told his family the full story of nearly being murdered twice by Ernesto in the LoTD. I think he wouldn't want to worry them and he wouldn't have processed it properly himself to be able to freely talk about it. So he would have told them a glossed over/toned down version of the tale. When Miguel tells Elena he's seen/been exposed to worse, that's the closest he's ever come to saying anything about nearly being murdered twice. Miguel also associates Hector with safety, love and support as a result of his time in the LoTD, so his need to see Hector is very strong.
> 
> I wanted to get some honesty out of Hector, but I thought it would take something drastic like morphine to get some honest expression of sadness out of him. Look at his tendency to put a sunny smile on things (Eg - Hector will do this for Miguel even when he only met Miguel a few hours before, and he is being forgotten and will die very soon and his friend has just dissolved right before him). He has two really honest conversations with both Elena and Victoria and we get an insight into how he feels. I didn't think Hector would give up the fact that he felt really hurt by 96 years of rejection easily. So catastrophic injuries and drug-induced truth telling (or honest feelings talk) is the way I went. Morphine does really make everything fuzzy, so he's not going to remember much of these conversations, but at least he got to put his feelings out there for once. 
> 
> I also wanted to make it clear that there isn't really an easy way back to the land of the dead for Hector or Victoria. They both have to figure out their thing to get back.
> 
> Dante will be able to deliver his package. The X-ray envelope wasn't empty. So Victoria's little package for her dad is going to cause a bit of a stir on the otherside. Can you imagine? Victoria wont remember much about sending it, because she has also been sampling the morphine for science!
> 
> Mi terroncito de azúcar means my sugar-lump. I wanted a super dorky and cute term of endearment for Hector to call Elena. but please any native spanish speakers let me know if this is okay to use in a familial setting.


	7. To the otherside...

  _Spring, 2019._

Elena heard a commotion from the offrenda room. She rushed in to see that fool stray dog had brought a fool stray cat into her house! Elena knew this would happen. Mama Imelda used to say 'Stray animals are just like musicians, you let one in and then they will always bring a friend!'

 Elena chased the animals out, but this didn't stop them from sneaking back into the offrenda room. The cat, in typical cat fashion, liked to knock things off shelves just to be an asshole. The cat's favourite thing to do was tip over the big bundle of letters for Mama Imelda, because this was the thing that made the most mess. The letters would flutter everywhere. The cat would then scurry through the papers just to make an even bigger mess. Cats never made a little mess when a big mess was an option. Elena was sure the cat was doing it on purpose.  Just as Elena had finished cleaning it up, the horrid beast snuck back in and knocked the letters off again.

Miguel and Rosa had come home from school to find their grandmother irately shouting at the cat and chasing it around the courtyard, sandal in hand. The cat did not seem scared, at all. It had climbed up on the roof of the offrenda room, and began licking itself casually. This was a blatant display of how unafraid it was. It didn't seem to mind having shoes thrown in its general direction. It was like the cat was taunting Elena. 

"Abueltia, no. I think it could be Pepita. She's Mama Imelda's magestic alerbrije" Miguel said, thrusting himself between Elena's considerable wrath and the petite, smug, aloof cat sitting on her roof.

Rosa turned to Miguel, eyebrow raised. "You been at the cactus juice again?"

"No. I'm serious! I think she wants to take something to Mama Imelda. That's why she's on the offrenda room."

"Oh, she's a deliveroo cat now is she?  What are her shipping costs? I've always found delivery by cat to be the most useful and reliable."

"She really is an alerbrije, Rosa!"

"Earth to Miguel: Not everything in the world is connected to you crazy adventure. Not every stray animal is a majestic alerbrije."

"What's all the shouting about?" Héctor asked blearily from the door, leaning on his crutches heavily. He'd clearly been woken by the noise they were all making. Elena blamed that arrogant cat, to be honest. 

Dr Torrez had changed Héctor's dosage. He still slept a lot, but this was helping him heal. Dr Torrez said he was making excellent progress and would be better within two weeks. The internal bleeding and head trauma had cleared themselves up. They were just waiting for the bones now.

Dr Torrez had given Héctor some crutches, but said that he still needed as much bed-rest as possible and should avoid moving about. But of course Héctor ignored this  completely. He was the sort of person who would wander around absently to investigate loud or strange noises. Honestly, if they were in one of those horror movies Abel liked, Héctor would be the first character to die.

"Héctor, what on earth are you doing up? Get back to bed." Elena scolded, before turning her scolding face to that cat. "You horrid beast, you woke up our Héctor!"

"It's okay. Elena It's Pepita. She's Imelda's alerbrije." Héctor said, like this was a perfectly normal thing to say.

Miguel shot Rosa a very self-satisfied, I-told-you-so kind of smile. Elena frowned a very irritated what-fresh-ridiculousness-is-this kind of frown.  
   
Héctor had asked her just this morning _'if oranges are orange, should we start calling lemons yellows?'_ A question that ridiculous meant she shouldn't have to listen to a word Héctor said for the rest of the day. He'd made her double-check that she'd given him the right dosage twice this morning already. Elena wasn't taking Héctor's word for anything.

She suspected Héctor had overheard Miguel and was hopping on the bandwagon to support his chamanco. No way that stray cat was a majestic alerbrije. She was tiny and Elena knew alerbrije were meant to be big and colourful. She kind of agreed with Rosa. Not every single scrappy animal Miguel encountered would be an alerbrije. It was crazy, and his insistence that his dumb dog also had magical powers was proof of that.

That brazen feline jumped down from the roof, strolled past Elena arrogantly and went straight to Héctor, rubbing against his ankles and miaowing sweetly like she was such an innocent little kitty who would never make the exact same mess 12 times in a row. The cat was making the big-eyes at him and he was looking down at it adoringly.  Oh no! Héctor was a cat person on top of being a fool musician. Héctor tried to reach down to pat the cat and then winced at the movement - But he still kept trying anyway!  This annoyed Elena.

She ushered Héctor back to bed. Did he not know the meaning of resting, fool musician that he was!  The stray cat came with them, upon Héctor's insistence and Elena's capitulation, because she saw this was the only way to get him to actually follow a doctor's instruction.

"I have not seen you in months Pepita.  Thank you for visiting me. How is my Imelda? "  Héctor said, as the cat jumped up on the bed and snuggled next to him.  _Just make yourself at home, why don't you?_ Elena thought archly as she glared at the cat from the door. Héctor started scratching the cat behind the ears and the cat purred in response.

"Ah, That's good. I'm glad she's okay. I am glad you are looking after her. Who's a good girl, then?" Héctor cooed as he patted the cat softly, obviously enjoying having a one-sided conversation with the cat.  As if he wasn't ridiculous enough already? Now he was talking to cats.  

The cat leaned into Héctor's hand, and then put her chin on top of his fingers so he'd give her a little scratch under her chin.  It purred loudly, closing its eyes blissfully. " Oooh you like that.  Good girl. Who's a pretty girl?  It's Pepita. Pepita's a pretty girl."  Héctor said indulgently as he kept scratching the cat and murmuring sweetly at it.

"Can we keep her Abueltia, please?" Miguel asked.

"No. I have already let you have the dog Miguel. We are not an all-hours shelter for animals. We can't just keep taking in every scruffy thing that turns up on our door! If we feed her, she'll stay forever."

Héctor was the first scruffy thing Elena had taken in, and just look what had happened! Mama Imelda was right. You let one scruffy stray in and the rest followed. Elena was going to be a proud dog and cat owner before this nonsense was finished, she just knew it.

"She probably won't stay for long, Elena. She prefers to be over the otherside with Imelda. I think she's just visiting." Héctor said, a little sleepily, still cuddling the cat. "Can she stay Elena, please? I like having her here," Héctor said as he made the puppy-dog eyes at Elena, like he thought his big, sad, brown eyes would convince her to allow a cat into her house.

He was right.

Oh, he was a sneaky, fool musician today!

"Please Abuelita. Pepita likes Héctor and she makes him feel better, and Héctor did get hit by a car saving Manny. Shouldn't we want him to feel better?"  Miguel wheedled, with absolutely no concept of over-kill. Elena was going to say yes already, he didn't need to lay it on that thick.

"Pah! Fine. But keep her out of the offrenda room Miguel. I'm not cleaning up anymore messes!"

“Beautiful, wonderful, elegant, wise Elena, thank you! Everyone thinks you are made of granite and steel, but I know are made of marshmellows.” Héctor said with a smile.

“I am not made of marshmellows Héctor!” Elena grumbled at him. She wasn't going soft. She didn't want Héctor to get the wrong idea.

-0-

Miguel had introduced Pepita around after Héctor had fallen asleep. Pepita wouldn't leave him until he was resting comfortably again. The twins were super excited to have a cat and chased her. Pepita ran away from them like her tail was on fire and took refuge in Victoria's room, under Victoria's stool. 

"What's with the cat?" Victoria glanced up from her painting.

"It's Pepita. Abuelita says we can keep her."

"Elena is letting you keep her? But she _hates_ cats." Victoria exclaimed, sounding very surprised.

"Pepita makes Héctor happy. Abuelita wants him to be happy."

"It's cute he named her after Mama Imelda's ridiculously huge alerbrije." Victoria chuckled. "Dream big, little kitten." She remarked dryly to the cat exploring her room.

"It actually is Pepita, Victoria. Can't you see how wise she is?"

Pepita emerged from tumbling adorably in a pile of scarves. Victoria had heaps of scarves that she was using to tie her hair back lately.  They all looked the exact same to Miguel. She kept them in piles on the floor. Pepita placed a scarf at Victoria's feet delicately, and then started rubbing her back against Victoria's ankles to get her attention. Victoria looked down and picked up the scarf in confusion, before her eyes grew large. She stuffed the scarf in her pocket.

Abuelita had put down an extra food bowl for Pepita next to Dante's and she called  Miguel to come fed them both. It was dinner time for everyone. Pepita let him cuddle her close after dinner. She was such a tiny, cute, little cat. She looked so different here, but Miguel tried to remind herself what she really looked like. She a good alerbrije. She'd saved him from the cenote and from falling. Miguel loved her. Miguel loved Dante too. Dante was his. But Pepita was definitely a bit better practised at being a spirit guide.

She kept rubbing her head against Miguel's ankles and then walking towards the offrenda room. "I can't let you in there, Pepita. Abuelita will _freak_." Miguel warned the cat.  She came back over and miaowed at him, sounding disgruntled. "What did you want to take from there anyway, girl?"

Pepita went to the window to Héctor's room and scratched at it. "I think you're too small to carry Héctor back with you this time."  Miguel said ruefully as he knelt down next to her. The cat gazed at him sorrowfully. 

"Paper. Someting really light and little. I think we can send that." Victoria said, coming out to sit next to him and the cat.

"How do you know?"

"I don't. But last week, when I was feeling...err... _very creative_ , I got the idea into my head to try send some things to the otherside for my father with Dante. I tied some paper  around his neck with a scarf that looked almost exactly this -" She took the scarf out of her pocket "- and now this cat is here."

"Maybe Mama Imelda sent Pepita as a reply.  Do you think Pepita brought a reply from Papa Julio? Would Mama Imelda write to Héctor? That would make him so happy." Miguel asked hopefully. 

"No, Miguelito. It doesn't work that way. What is real can become spirit, but what is from the otherside can't come back to this world. We can send things to them, but they can't send things back to us."

"Maybe that's why Mama Imelda sent Pepita. She can cross over! Should we go wake up Héctor and see what he wants to send to Mama Imelda." Miguel got excitedly to his feet.

"No!" Victoria grabbed his hand quickly. "We don't know if this actually works Miguel! I'm just guessing. What if I'm wrong? I really don't know much about alerbrijes. I never had one. I do know nothing is meant to pass between the worlds outside of Dia De Los Muertas.  It could be that this is just a stray cat and Dante lost my paintings. I don't want to give Héctor false hope. That's not fair to him."  
   
"But..."

"Look, how about we try sending something really small? We can follow her and see if she does cross over to the otherside with it. We can tell him when we're sure it's working." 

"Okay.  Maybe one of his letters for Mama Imelda?" 

"Please, have you seen the size of some of them? Héctor goes on for pages and pages.  He never shuts up, even on paper. They'll be too heavy." Victoria said, patting the little cat. 

"A photo? I've got lots."

"Good idea."

Choosing a photo was hard. Miguel had so many. In the end, he settled on the selfie he had taken not long after Héctor got his glasses. It had him, Victoria, Héctor and Rosa. Miguel had wanted one that included everybody on team glasses. It was a good photo of all of them. Everyone looked happy and no one was blinking, winking, yawning or trying to push the person next to them off the seat.  Héctor's arms were around the girls, while Miguel had lain across all three laps to get the shot.  Miguel turned it over to write on the back, trying to make his writing as small as possible.

_Hi Mama Imelda, Tio Oscar, Tio Felipe, Papa Julio and Tia Rosita. Victoria thinks we might be able to send things through with Pepita to the otherside, but she's not sure if this will work.  We're sending this photo, because it's light and little and Pepita can carry it easily. I wanted to send one of Héctor's letters for Mama Imelda, but Victoria says they're too big because he never shuts up, even on paper. Let us know if this works, okay.  I'm taking lots of photos of Héctor, just in case. I took this one after lunch in the courtyard not long after Héctor got his glasses. Oh, Héctor needs glasses. I probably should have said that first. He's long-sighted just like Victoria and Rosa.  Abuelita is letting me keep Dante..._

"Miguel! Don't hog all the room. I need to write a message too." Victoria grumbled.

"Oh. Sorry." Miguel said sheepishly as he handed the photo to her. He'd still left her a little sliver at the bottom at least.

Victoria read what he wrote and then frowned at him severely over the rim of her glasses. "You are just like him, you know. Neither of you can ever shut up, even on paper." 

Victoria had to write in tiny cramped letters, but she could add her message to the bottom. _Hello Everyone. I apologise if my last package caused any upset. We are both okay. We love you all. Victoria._

They attached it to Pepita and followed her.

"Let's see where she disappears.  If she disappears and the photo goes with her, we'll know she really can make it to the otherside with a package." Victoria said.

-0-

Pepita had a mission for her human.  Her human had been so sad without the music-making human. If Pepita was a good girl and finished her mission, her human would be happier. But this mission was getting very difficult and irritating. 

The other two humans did not stop following her! Her human loved them. They were family. In other circumstances Pepita would feel compelled to protect them. At this current moment Pepita wanted to roar at them.

Didn't they know she couldn't pass to the otherside when they were watching! Alerbrijes could only pass between the worlds when they were completely unobserved by human eyes.  Pepita tried her best to roar, but it came out as a cute little miaow.

"She wants us to follow her!"

Pepita miaowed again, trying to convey _No, I don't! Go back home humans!_

"She wants us to go this way!"

Pepita growled. If they hadn't tied the paper around her neck, she would have run from them, but she knew she couldn't lose the paper.  It was important picture paper, like the one her human had fought the very bad man for. If she ran, she might lose it. Her human would be sad if she lost it.  She tried walking in odd directions to confuse and disorientate the small boy human and the tall woman human.

"Where is she going? This isn't the way to the bridge?"

"I don't know but let's keep following her."

 Pepita growled, then tried harder to lose them.

"I think we are going in circles."

"Is she lost? We've been past this corner eight times now."

"I don't know."

"Does she still have the photo?"

"It looks like it."

The humans were interested in the picture paper around her neck. _Interesting._ If she didn't have it tied on, Pepita could probably shake them. She'd have to be careful not to damage it, but she could carry it in her mouth.

"What's she doing now?"

"Just sitting there and licking herself."

"Oh, now she's nuzzling the photo. It looks like she's trying to eat the ribbon we tied it on with."

"She took it off?!"

"Where did it go?"

"I think she's sitting on it, actually."

"She's sitting on it? Should she be sitting on it? Is that normal for alerbrijes?"

"Miguel, how sure are we that this is actually Pepita and not some random stray?"

"Pretty sure.  Héctor thinks it's Pepita."

"Miguel, Héctor is on hard-core painkillers right now! Don't listen to Héctor.  He hallucinated that his guitar was talking to him for over two hours the other week."

"Well, she seems like a really smart cat."

Oh, why was this Pepita's lot on life? She knew what she had to do, even though it was so undignifed. If they thought she was a stupid stray, then they would stop following her and she could complete her mission. She threw herself around, like she saw the other alerbrije, Good Dog doing. Good Dog was a good boy, but he did not look very smart when he moved.

"Miguel, I think she just fell over."

"Oh no. She's chewing her own leg now."

"She's tripped herself up while chewing her own leg."

"Come on Pepita. Do something majestic!"

"Miguel, I'm sorry. I think this was a mistake.  I think she really might be a random stray. Do you want me to try get your photo back."

"No need, I got lots of copies."

"We should go home, then."

_Finally!_

Once the humans had turned around the corner, Pepita picked up the picture paper gently in her teeth and set off for the bridge.

-0-

_Thank you God. Thank you Jesus. Thank you Mary!_ Victoria thought to herself in relief.  It wasn't Pepita. It was just some random cat. Sending packages to the otherside didn't work.  Victoria had always been told spirit copies could only cross over when it was Dias de los Muertas, and now she knew for sure.  If her package hadn't made it through, then this random stray cat was not Mama Imelda's way of replying.

They had spent two hours chasing a random cat around Santa Cecilia and now they probably had acquired a brand new stray pet, which would annoy Elena - but at least Victoria knew her 'package' hadn't made it to the otherside. 

She had a vague, blearly memory of attaching her paintings to Dante when she was high, but that dog was so hopeless, he'd probably just lost them somewhere. It didn't mean that her whole family on the otherside now knew she got snozzled on Héctor's painkillers and then sent them inappropriate mail. 

_Thank God._

Sure, Miguel was dissappointed. He'd really thought that Mama Imelda was sending them Pepita and just being able to communicate with her again would cheer Héctor up. 

 

Thank goodness they hadn't woken Héctor up for this - Elena would have killed them. Elena acted like Héctor annoyed her most of the time, but Victoria knew her sister was actually a big softie where Héctor was concerned. Victoria's stern, uncompromising big sister was going to let Héctor keep the stray cat on top of keeping the stray dog, just because the animals made him happy, after all.

 

-0-

Héctor was still normally the first person awake in the household. He'd been feeling much clearer in the mornings now. He was on a lower dose of painkillers, and it had made the world less foggy. He got his crutches and got up to fed Pepita and Dante.  Pepita had spent the last night sleeping at the foot of his bed and sometimes growling at the window.  It warmed his heart to think the alerbrije was trying to watch over him.

Dante seemed like a fully domesticated family dog now, but Pepita came and went as she pleased.  Pepita would be gone for days at a time, and then she'd turn up again, miaow loudly at people, (Mostly Miguel and Victoria) until Elena got annoyed and would exclaim something like 'This isn't an animal shelter you know. You can keep her as long as you keep her quiet.' 

Héctor would pick Pepita up one-handed (he could lean down on his right side now. Yay, leaning down!) and carry her somewhere else when Elena started saying things like this.  He didn't want Pepita feeling like she was unwanted. He knew how much feeling unwanted sucked.

Sometimes Héctor could have sworn Pepita was huffing at them all and rolling her eyes, like they were the ones doing something to really frustrate her.  She'd turn her cat nose in the air and stalk away. He wouldn't see her again for ages.  Elena thought she was an ungrateful street cat, who only came to their house because they fed her.  Héctor would say she was still a wild alerbrije at heart, with alerbrije business to attend to. Elena would raise her eyebrow and mutter about his dosage in response.  

Héctor wondered how it had happened. He'd known Pepita when she'd been a little kitten. How had little Pepita transformed in a glorious winged jaguar that could cross between the worlds, save boys from falling to their deaths and always be with Imelda. 

Imelda had rescued Pepita, the unwanted runt of the litter, when she was nine years old. They would have put the kitten down, but Imelda had hidden the cat in her skirts and taken her home. She'd kept Pepita a secret from everybody, but she'd shown Héctor her beloved pet one day. She'd sworn him to secrecy, saying her father would be cross if he knew. Héctor had only been eight-years-old, but he had promised solemnly, feeling like keeping Imelda's secrets was the most important task he had ever been entrusted with.

Imelda brought Pepita with her when she defied her father to be with Héctor. The cat was devoted to Imelda and would follow her around their house adoringly.  Héctor thought the cat knew Imelda had saved her and would always be grateful.

It was so odd to see Pepita here now, and to have her be so affectionate with him.  When he'd been alive Pepita had never really cared for him. She would barely tolerate him patting her and giving her little scratches behind the ears.  Now she acted like Héctor was her favourite person. She was always very snuggly with him, while being obviously and dramatically  rude and aloof with the rest of the family.

She was miaowing loudly at him and rubbing her back against his legs. Héctor kept putting food in her bowl until she stopped making so much noise. He didn't want Elena to get annoyed at little Pepita again, and feeding her huge amounts seemed to help keep her quiet. Elena said Héctor's tendency to overfeed the cat was why the cat liked him the best.

When Pepita was finally eating quietly with Dante, Héctor heard it.  There were strange noises coming from outside. It sound like a lot of people scuffling about. Héctor got his crutches. His arm had healed much faster than his leg, and now he could get about more independently now.  He went to investigate. 

Héctor opened the front door to see a crowd of people. Lots of voices started yelling excitedly.  They were yelling his name. There was a series of bright flashes that nearly blinded him.

FLASH!

FLASH!

FLASH!

“Excuse me.” Héctor said, then closed the door abruptly on the flashes, light and commotion. He hauled himself over to Elena and Franco's room on his crutches.  He poked his grand-daughter lightly.  She stirred.

“Elena, something _very strange_ is happening outside.”

-0-

Things Elena had to put up with now that Héctor lived with her -  a short list:

⦁ Stray cats underfoot.  
⦁ Stray dogs underfoot.  
⦁ Spending good money on flim-flam for stray animals - so they would feel 'wanted' and 'loved'.  
⦁ Buying a dog bed  to give that mangy beast a proper place to sleep, only to have the stupid animal have no idea what it was for, and choose sleep at the food of Miguel's bed most nights.  
⦁ Buying a little cat bed only to have the rude little beast obviously and deliberately ignore the cat bed and Elena, (giving both a rather disdainful look), and choose sleeping at the end of Héctor's bed as her favourite place to nap.  
⦁ Having a long conversation with the cat, (when no one else was around), saying it had to be very careful with Héctor's leg if it was going to continue sleeping at the foot of the bed. That leg was still broken and healing, and if the cat bumped it during the night and hurt Héctor, Elena was going to give it such a slap with her sandal.  
⦁ Being one hundred percent sure that the cat had rolled its eyes at Elena in response.   
⦁ Not being able to tell anyone about this rudeness because that would mean confessing to having long conversations with a rude cat, and Elena wouldn't be doing that.  
⦁ Having to put up with a cat who was aloof to everyone except Héctor.   
⦁ Dealing with that cat's kleptomania. Honestly, the little thing Héctor loved so much was such a thief. It was forever taking socks, papers, guitar strings, and photos. Heaven's knew where the little beast was hiding its ill-gotten horde.  
⦁ Listening to Héctor excuse his cat's bad behaviour, saying she was Imelda's alerbrije and alerbrijes were just like that.  
⦁ Having to indulge much crazy talk about alerbrijes.  
⦁ Constantly checking the bottles of pain-mediation to make sure she wasn't making a mistake with the dosage after conversations with Héctor.  
⦁ Not complaining too much about that stray cat, despite the thieving, the rudeness and the noise it made - because Héctor clearly loved the cat and he didn't like anyone speaking badly of it.  
⦁ Being woken at 5 am to a driveway full of journalists.

-0-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everyone who comments. It really does give me so much motivation. 
> 
> Title is from " To the otherside" by Passion Pit. It's a great song, and it fits the chapters theme of the difficulty in communicating between the Land of the Dead and the Land of the Living. I actually have heaps of ideas as to how Imelda is dealing with everything in the Land of the Dead, but I think I'll write a separate tie-in fic that would explore that. 
> 
> Poor Pepita is trying her best to be a good alerbrije, but Riveras are frustrating. Neither Victoria or Miguel try writing to the other side again after they assume she's just a stray. So pepita takes matters into her own hands and thieves. Miguel and Imelda both have alerbrijes, and so Miguel can better sense what pepita really is - but because he has no way of knowing for sure, he bows to Victoria's assessment. Victoria and Hector don't have alerbrijes and so neither of them have much idea what to do with them in the Land of the Living aside from treat them like pets. 
> 
> In my head canon Pepita was Imelda's childhood pet, so Hector is the other one who saw her when she was alive and a normal cat. However, he gets dismissed because he's on painkillers.


	8. Baby, you'll be famous...

0-

 

Journalists.

 

Everywhere she looked, journalists. Snapping their cameras and yelling their questions at her Héctor.

 

“Sorry, I'm on a lot of painkillers right now and I can't understand you all if you yell at the same time.”  Héctor said, holding his hands up in an appeasing gesture.

 

“Were painkillers the secret to your musical genius?”

 

“Were you addicted when you were alive?'

 

Elena felt incensed. How dare they?!  She moved Héctor behind her and stood in the doorway, the very image of matriarchal fury. The stray cat joined her and began hissing at all the journalists loudly.

 

Dios Mio! Even when Elena was shouting at journalists, she would have a stray animal underfoot.  

 

No more strays!

 

“No, you idiots!” she bellowed at the journalists.  “He was just in a _catastrophic_ accident. He was hit by a car saving my grandson. It shattered all the bones on the left side of his body. The doctors have prescribed him painkillers because his bones were _shattered_ , you insensitive fools!”

 

“But because I am re-animated, shattered bones means I can pop the bone in my arm in and out of the socket – do you want to see?”  Héctor offered good-naturedly from over her shoulder.

 

Of course, the journalists wanted to see. 

 

Héctor obliged.

 

Héctor could pop his ulna, collarbone and femur out of alignment at will, because of all the still healing fractures. Dr Torrez warned that Héctor's tendency to deliberately pop his bones out of alignment would result in a longer healing process, but Héctor seemed obsessed with doing it anyway. He liked showing people. Elena wondered if he was secretly amused everyone’s grossed out faces. He'd shown the whole family, to their collective disgust and fascination. Elena was discouraging this bad habit most strongly, occasionally at slipper point.

 

The sound _,_ _sweet baby Jesus,_ the sound his bones made when he popped them out of alignment! The journalists were also collectively disgusted yet fascinated – just like any sane person would be for Héctor's little trick. However, it was a rare, bizarre photo opportunity. The cameras flashed once again.

 

“Héctor – stop popping your bones out for the journalists!” Elena scolded. _(Dios mio!_ The things that came out of her mouth now that Héctor was living with them).  She pushed him back inside the house.

 

 

-0-

 

“I don't understand. They all want to see me?” Héctor said, as he sat at the kitchen table, coffee in front of him, looking extremely bemused.

 

“You're actually a quite famous.” Elena said, unsure how to continue this conversation. 

 

She'd never really told him about his posthumous success.  The little information display for him was round the far side of the workshop on the street. They had chosen that location because the passing tourists wouldn't bother the family at all.  Héctor had been such a homebody. He hadn't really gone out and about in Santa Cecilia, except with Elena for his appointments or those few trips to Oaxaca City with the kids. Elena once asked him if he got bored, at home all the time. He'd just smiled at her and shrugged "I'm finally home. I don't want to be anywhere else but here."

 

Héctor was famous for his song-writing and the tragedy of his fate. They only had one picture of him, (though Miguel had certainly rectified that), and no one had really put a face to the name.  Until now. 

 

Elena had preferred it when no one seemed to know about Héctor. Elena thought of all those cameras flashing and journalists yelling insensitive questions at her Héctor. She felt her stomach twist in apprehension.

 

“Now, they know you're back from the dead, people are going to be a little curious about you.”  Elena explained.

 

“Me? But why? I'm not important.”

 

Héctor looked more confused and unsettled than a giraffe with a Lamborghini driving around its feet.  Clearly Elena needed to give more information. But some odd impulse made her hesitate. She was worried. Perhaps if Héctor knew exactly how famous and popular his songs still were, it would lure him away from the family again. She pushed that impulse aside. Héctor deserved to know the truth. 

 

“When it was proven that Ernesto De La Cruz was a fraud who murdered you for your songs and passed them off as his own, there was a great deal of interest in you as the original songwriter.   People really love all your songs Héctor.”

 

 “Even _Everybody knows Juanita?_ I was just messing about when I wrote that.” Héctor said, sounding dumbfounded.

 

“Even that song.”  That song was so obscene, but people seemed to like it. It made them chuckle. It was a popular drinking song, apparently.  It wasn't as lucrative as _Remember Me,_ but it still made money for them. 

 

Elena had never really explained to Héctor about the Héctor money. She wasn't sure why. She hadn't intended to keep it a secret.  They lived extremely comfortably. They weren't ostentatious people after all – but there was a lot of money building up in that account and no one was quite sure what to do with it. 

 

She'd told Héctor about inflation, told him they were comfortable for money – but she'd never sat him down and showed him the numbers.  She felt like it was unrefined and degrading, somehow, to outright say to him “Your music made us rich.”  But she could show him.

 

She got out the laptop and logged into the bank account that held the royalties. “Héctor, your songs still make us money. That's where we get the Héctor money from.” she explained as she waited for the account to load.

 

“I thought that was what you were calling the money you were spending on me.” 

 

“No, idiot.”  Elena scolded. “Look here.”

 

“I can't see without my glasses.”

 

_Those glasses._ They'd fought about the glasses. Héctor had grown up very poor. He had thought she was spending too much money on him. She could have told him then. She probably should have told him then.  She stood up and got his glasses for him, cleaning them on the bottom of her shirt. He was always forgetting to clean them properly. 

 

“Every time someone uses your songs, they give us money – see here.” Elena explained placing the glasses on his face and turning the screen, so he could look at it.

 

“Hey! That's pretty good for one hundred years.”  Héctor said, clearly delighted as he looked at the screen.  It was a much more lowkey reaction than Elena had been expecting. Héctor could be exceptionally dramatic after all.  Elena glanced at the screen and realised she'd clicked the individual song information tab.

 

“Héctor. We get around that amount for _Juanita_ every month.  That's the monthly deposit for one song -” She said gently as she clicked out of the screen and into the main page.  She pointed to the bottom of the screen to the total.

 

“ _That_ figure there is the money your songs made in the last six months.” 

 

Héctor squinted at the screen.

 

“Dios Mio!” he gasped loudly, then promptly fainted.

 

-0-

 

The journalists didn't really go away. They lingered like a bad smell.  Elena went out and demanded they move along, or at least shuffle to the side of her driveway. They said they would move if they could ask Héctor a couple of questions.

 

“No Héctor for you!” She barked at them and strode back in, slamming the door.

 

 Elena resolved to wait them out. Gloria and Miguel were not as patient. Attention-seeking fools, both of them! Gloria was always walking up and down the driveway and getting her photo taken. Miguel would go out to the driveway to tell the journalists how proud he was of his Papa Héctor, demonstrate his guitar skills and show them his dimple.  He'd say things like "We have the same ears as well. So, this is a song I wrote about having jug ears." 

 

_Jug ears_ was actually a song about all the things that Miguel and Héctor had in common that Miguel liked about himself. He'd written it to cheer Héctor up.  Elena refused to find it cute. She told herself it wasn't adorable. It might be a sweet sentiment, but Miguel was choosing to express it a such a bad time! That wasn't adorable. That was annoying!

 

The journalists would clap and cheer to anything, but they really enjoyed the _Jug Ears_ song. They clearly found Miguel delightful.  "No journalists for you Miguel!" Elena would stomp out, scold Miguel and take him away from his newest fans.

 

 By mid-afternoon on the third day, the journalists were still there, and Elena was out of patience (both with the journalists and with her attention-seeking family members).  Realising there was nothing for it, unless she wanted to wait for the irritating journalists to move out of her driveway every time she reversed out to go to the supermarket, Elena asked Héctor if he wanted to talk to the journalists and make them go away. 

 

Héctor was always keen to make new friends. (Of course, he was. She should have expected this kind of reaction from him.) He wanted to help her shift the wastrels from her driveway. He was between dosages, and at his most lucid. He was least likely to say or do anything _weird_ right now and shame the family – and Elena wanted her driveway back. 

 

Elena made Héctor put on nice clothes (good jeans, his Rivera boots and nice shirt) before he could talk to the journalists.  Standing was painful for him with his broken leg, so Elena let the journalists into the courtyard, though she loathed to let those wastrels into her home.  They were like feral cats, prowling around, smelling a good story. But this way Héctor could sit on one of the courtyard chairs while he talked to them.

 

Elena scolded the journalists like they were naughty and irrepressible school children.  This was Elena's home and she decided how things would work. Firstly, none of this shouting all at once at her Héctor. How impolite! Did they have no manners? Secondly, no rude questions!  Thirdly, no one should encourage Héctor to pop his bones out again. If anyone disobeyed, she would kick them out of her house so fast their head would spin. Elena waggled her shoe at them in a threatening manner.

 

“This is my beautiful and gracious grand-daughter Elena.”  Héctor declared proudly, while smiling widely at her and gesturing at her.  Elena rolled her eyes at him, and handed _the talking shoe_ to a journalist, gesturing for him to ask his question.

 

“What's it like being back in the land of the living after nearly 100 years? Is it nice to be here?”

 

“Well, at my age - it's nice to be anywhere!" Héctor joked and there was some chortling. "I'm not going to lie, I was very surprised to wake up in a _dead end_ in Mexico City. But it's great. I get to spend time with my wonderful family and see how much the world has changed.”

 

“What do you like about this time?”

 

Héctor was engaging and charming. He entertained them all with his thoughts on the modern world.  He went on a long rant about discovering different genres of music on Spotify and being amazed at the sounds now available for musicians. Then he started talking about refrigerators, microwaves, and his many misadventures with modern technology. This caused much hilarity.

 

One journalist asked Héctor if there was anything he didn't like about the modern world.  Héctor made them laugh again with his indignation regarding the game _Guitar Hero._ He felt very strongly about _Guitar Hero._ His disgruntled rumblings about how guitars don't work that way and it was a stupid game caused much giggling amongst the journalists. Héctor then retold the story of being taken to the dinosaur museum. The journalists erupted with more laughter. One journalist had to lean against the wall of the house she was laughing so hard.

 

“Any plans to make any more music?”

 

“Get me a guitar and I can make you some now.”  Héctor said with a good-natured shrug. He'd said it as a joke, but the journalists thought he was serious. They were excited. They pleaded with him to play something for them.

 

“Okay, okay. Just wait here for a second journalist.” Héctor relented, waving his hands in a placating gesture at the journalists, moving to get up.  Gloria strode in to give Héctor the guitar. She smiles widely at the cameras, posing, and had her photo snapped. 

 

Héctor strummed the strings idly, checking it was in tune. He began fiddling with the little knobs at the side, then strummed again.   “Okay, any requests?” Héctor said, looking up at the journalists again.

 

 There was some shouting as journalists yelled out different song titles at the same time. This was against Elena's rules. She kicked three journalists out of the courtyard with much ado. The journalists were quite dramatic about being kicked out of her house.

 

“You know, maybe I'll just play you my favourite song -” Héctor said, clearly seeing that asking for requests was going to result in more shouting.

 

“ _Remember Me_?” A journalist guessed.

 

Héctor smiled ruefully. “–No, it's not _Remember Me._ It's _Un Poco Loco._ I wrote it for my beautiful wife Imelda.  She's the most incredible woman in the world, and she made me more than a little crazy.  But this song reminds me of her, and that makes me happy.”

 

Elena knew this song. She had heard Miguel singing it non-stop.  It was normally a fast-paced, jubilant, toe-tapping melody.  It was the sort of song you would want to dance to.

 

Elena hadn't known he'd written it for Mama Imelda. It was such a carefree, joyous song. It didn't seem like Mama Imelda at all. Elena had never seen her be carefree in her whole life. 

 

Héctor sang it differently today. A little slower, a little more tender. It was still a happy tune, but rather than making Elena want to tap her feet, it made her want to snuggle up with Franco under the blankets. It put most people in a cuddly mood. Even that terrible cat jumped up next to Héctor as he sang and snuggled in next to him.

 

The journalists were watching Héctor, clearly enthralled. They clapped riotously when he had finished. He really was very talented, Elena had to admit. Even after recovering from such terrible injuries, Héctor could pull out a little show like that out of thin air. He was a natural performer.  All the journalists loved him already.

 

“Are all your songs for someone?”

 

“Yes.” Héctor said simply.  “ _Wait, wait, wait...”_ he added after a split second, as he held up his hand, clicking to get everyone's focus. He was clearly struck by a sudden, very important thought. He wanted everyone listening. However, doing that hadn't been necessary. Héctor had grabbed their attention the moment he sat down, and he hadn't let it go. 

 

  “Okay, there is something that really bothers me about the future, and I’d just like to clear up the record now.  _Remember Me_ was written as a lullaby for my wonderful daughter Coco.  It's meant to be sung gently and lovingly. Tenderly, you know. _It was never meant to have trumpets and fireworks!”_ He seemed outraged, but all the journalists chuckled. 

 

“How can you get a kid to sleep if you blast a trumpet in their room, then let off some fireworks? I can't believe what that butt-chinned ham did with it.” Héctor made a disgusted face.  The journalists chuckled again. Héctor’s variety of outraged faces could be amusing, but Elena could tell he was serious for once. “He ruined all my songs, but he ruined _Remember Me_ the most.”  Héctor insisted.

 

“What about _Juanita?_ Who's that for?” A journalist asked cheekily. 

 

The question seemed to surprise Héctor. He froze for a moment before flashing them a cheeky smile and saying, “Would you believe me if I said my mother?”  

 

They laughed again. Ridiculous man.  Honestly, if he hadn't been a musician he could have been a comedian. 

 

“How about _The World is my Family_?”

 

“I actually wrote that for the Butt-chin.” Héctor made a repulsed and regretful face.  “Ernesto and I were both orphans in the De La Cruz orphanage. We grew up together. We both knew no one was going to adopt us...”

 

“Why?” a journalist piped up, interrupting Héctor. Elena shot them a savage look.

 

No interruptions!

 

“Because we were too handsome and mischievous, of course. No one want to take us on.”   Hector said with a wink.

 

The journalists were very amused by this, but Elena knew that couldn’t possibly have been the real reason.  There was something incredibly endearing about Héctor. His mischievous nature was part of his charm.  She didn't think it was possible to meet him and not want to love him and take care of him. She had been raised to despise him her whole life, but within a very short space of time he had become incredibly dear to her.  No, there was another reason why he was never adopted.

 

“Ernesto used to say that it wouldn’t matter that we never got adopted when we were famous because the world would love us and be our new family.” Héctor finished explaining.

 

“You said Ernesto ruined your songs. Would you ever think about re-inventing them for a modern audience?"  The journalist who had _the talking shoe_ started talking about the music industry, music deals and praising Héctor's skills. There was a question in there, but Elena wasn't quite sure what it was. Neither was Héctor from the sounds of things.

 

“Amigo, I have no idea how the modern music world works. I've been dead for 100 years.” Héctor said with a dismissive shrug. “But I do know this, I am perfectly content here, making shoes with my family. Look at these shoes.” He showed them his shoes proudly.

 

“My granddaughter Elena made these for me. Aren't they great? She's so talented. These are the most comfortable pair of shoes I've ever had. I could wear these for the next 100 years and they were still being comfortable. Elena's shoes are incredible.”

 

The cameras turned from the shoes Elena had made to Elena herself. She felt her cheeks go red.  “Héctor,” she said severely, trying to hide her embarrassment and squash the warm, fond feeling in her stomach.  What a ridiculous musician.

 

“She gets grumpy when I tell her how amazing she is, but she really is the best.” Héctor said, smiling at her and sounding very proud. 

 

“What about sharing your songs with the world? You could re-record them, then we could all hear how they are meant to sound. With your talent, you could be celebrated internationally and take the music world by storm!”  The journalist asked, clearly not satisfied with Héctor's answer.

 

“Ah, that was never my dream Amigo. I just like music for the joy of it. I like to make people smile and laugh or dance. I just wanted to share my music with people down at the plaza and see them happy. That's enough for me.”  Héctor paused, and then added much more seriously. “I don't need to be famous. I don't need the world to be my family any more.  I have my own family, and I just want to be home with them.”

 

Héctor's shoulders were starting to droop a little. Elena could see he was getting tired but trying to hide it.  Elena should clear these layabouts out of her courtyard. Héctor still needed to rest.  “Last question.” She barked at them.

 

“Will you at least start performing again?”

 

“I think that'll have to wait until my femur isn’t broken in four places, Amigo. Besides, If I sang again for you now, it would too amazing and everyone would get a _crutch_ on me.” He reached over and picked up his crutches and waggled them at the journalists affably, clearly enjoying his terrible pun. “- then none of you would ever move out of my grand-daughter's driveway.” He pointed at the door with the crutches. “Time to go now Journalists. Thanks for stopping by.”

 

-0-

 

Héctor got the all clear from Dr Torrez later that week.  When Miguel came home that afternoon, Héctor casually mentioned that they could do some impromptu performances down at the plaza together, but only if Miguel wanted to. Luisa had suggested it to Héctor after the interview with all those journalists in the courtyard.

 

She knew Miguel had been wanting to perform in the plaza for so long. She thought it would be good for him to get practise playing for bigger audiences. Miguel was beyond excited (and he was normally very excitable).  The kid let out the biggest grito Héctor had ever heard response.

 

Héctor had normally always performed with someone.  It was more fun when you had someone else to bounce off. Miguel could play by ear very well now. He knew all the chords and Héctor had shown him all his tricks. They were just messing about and having fun on their guitars together during practice now.

 

Héctor loved performing with Miguel. It was such a joy to be performing with the kid again. They'd only done one song together, that night in the Land of the Dead. When Héctor had seen Miguel singing his own song at Dia de los Muertas, he had wanted more than anything to join in with his little chamaco. Now they got the chance all the time. 

 

Miguel had such an infectious energy. He got the crowd all excited.  They always drew a huge crowd.  The district council wanted them to make a scheduled start and finish time, so they could make it “official” and advertise to the tourists. Héctor didn't want that. Not anymore. He didn’t want official or schedules or charro suits, or costumes or any of that. They weren’t performing monkeys.

 

They normally went down whenever they felt like it, just in their boots, jeans and t-shirts. Héctor wanted it to be relaxed and casual. They did some of Héctor's old songs, covers of songs Miguel liked. Miguel had even been experimenting with writing some of his own songs again, so they sang those too.

 

Héctor loved the _Jug ears_ song beyond words. Hearing it warmed up the little, cold, lonely, empty place inside him. Héctor’s whole world had been cold, lonely and empty for nearly a century. He still sometimes had nightmare that he was back there, alone and on the verge of being forgotten. Héctor would try shake it off and push past it. He’d been welcomed back by both his living and his dead family.  If he just kept proving how much he really loved them all, they’d let him stay.

 

Héctor was stuck on the wrong side of the marigold bridge again, but at least he was surrounded by family here. He got to do what he had always wanted – make a living of music right in the middle of Santa Cecilia. Making music with Miguel, in his home town, with his family watching and a crowd full of smiling faces made Héctor so happy he felt like his heart would burst.  He was half-worried his was going to _puff_ back mid-performance.

 

But it never seemed to happen for him. So many more re-animated people had gone home now, and Héctor was trying not to let it upset him.  He did what he'd always done – whenever the world got him down, he played his guitar.

 

The family normally came down to watch them. One day, Elena had decided that even his Coco could come. She'd been having a _really good_ day again. It was the only time Héctor would ever performed _Remember Me_ in the plaza. He sang it to his daughter the way it was meant to be sung. 

 

Héctor knew it was his most popular song. He knew everyone in the crowd really wanted to hear it all the time.  He knew he was being stubborn about this – but _Remember Me_ was for Coco, not for the world.  He only sang it for her. 

 

Luisa had started filming them and doing something with YouTube.  Héctor only knew YouTube as the depository of zombie movie clips. He didn't want to know much more about it. Luisa told him that it was like a library of films on the internet.  She told him the film she had made went viral. Héctor was very alarmed.

 

Viral sounded like an illness. Viruses were very bad!  He was convinced Luisa should not be encouraging viral videos.  She'd ruffled his hair good-naturedly, saying “Don't worry so much Mijo. It's a good thing,” before walking away, chuckling to herself.

 

Luisa had been a great help. She and Enrique were very good at the internet and at helping Héctor understand the modern world. They were also very good at reading the huge stacks of paper that various music companies had sent. They'd had a few visitors from different companies. Héctor didn't understand the modern music industry. The people who visited him wore fancy suits and spoke too smoothly and Héctor wasn't sure he trusted them. 

 

They wanted Héctor to go to Mexico City to record something, then naturally a tour would follow.  Héctor would look at Enrique or Luisa is alarm. Héctor didn't want that at all. They would politely get rid of the music person for him.

 

Héctor apparently got 'too dramatic' when he asked the music people to leave. (Enrique remarked that Héctor was even more dramatic than Elena when she had kicked the journalists out of the courtyard. That was saying something. That afternoon Elena had created the most dramatic spectacle Héctor had ever seen a single person create, living or dead, and he’d lived with Ernesto for a while!)

 

 Héctor didn't mean to get 'too dramatic' but he never wanted to go back to Mexico City or tour again. He wasn't going so far away. He wasn't leaving his family – that had been a big mistake the first time.

 

Besides, Coco needed him here.  She wasn't always having good days lately. Héctor hadn't been able to sing to Coco when he had been injured. She'd gotten much worse in that time.  She was forgetting things again, but she remembered better when Héctor was around. He'd snuck around to see her as soon as he got his crutches, just to sit with her. Elena was normally very angry at him for moving about when he was meant to be resting, but that afternoon had been different.

 

Héctor hadn't been able to hold the guitar, so he'd been humming to Coco softly and holding her hand when Elena stormed in. Elena had been mad that Héctor had made her worried, and she'd spent ages looking for him. She was mad that he was moving about when he shouldn't be. She wasn't mad about him spending time with Coco.  Quite the opposite.

 

"She's really missed you. She hasn't been doing so well without you singing to her." Elena said quietly, giving his shoulder a gruff yet affectionate squeeze.  

 

“Listen, Héctor we can do it remotely.”  The music industry man’s voice cuts softly through Héctor ’s thoughts. It was a voice that was used to persuading people. This man hadn’t taken Héctor’s dramatic no for an answer.  “You won’t even have to leave Oaxaca. We have a small studio in Oaxaca City. You could record there.  A tour won’t be necessary.  You can stay at home with your family.” 

 

The man had come back every day for a week with a slightly different offer. This one was the most enticing. “We can now offer you this much.”  The man slid a piece of paper over to Héctor, and tapped the figure written near the top.

 

Héctor couldn't really get his head around the money thing. He had never really set out to 'get rich' from his music. He just wanted to make enough to be able to keep Imelda and Coco comfortable and respectable. All the music people offered him an extravagant amount of money now, even accounting for inflation.

 

He put on his glasses, took the paper and looked at the number, exclaimed “ _Dios Mio”_ and promptly fainted.

 

-0-

 

“What do you think, my Coco?  I could go when you are having your siesta, and I'll be back before you wake up. You wouldn't even have time to miss me. It wouldn't take me very long. I can perform all those songs blind-folded.”

 

Héctor fluffed all the pillows again and settled Coco down so she would be comfortable. She hadn't been strong enough to come outside today and had spent most of the day abed.  He'd brought Pepita in (the cat was back again after another long absence). Coco liked Pepita. Pepita still looked the same as she had when Coco was a little girl and she was the family cat. Little Pepita settled in next to Coco, purring loudly. Héctor sat on the chair next to her bed, just keeping her company. He was holding her hands and talking softly. The sound of his voice seemed to soothe Coco when she got agitated. 

 

“...and the money. _Dios Mio_ , the money.” Héctor ran his other hand over his face.  “I had _nothing_ growing up. Now they are offering me more than the fortune of ten Kings of Prussia.  I could give so much to this family now.”

 

Coco smiled at him benignly. It seemed like she was listening, but Héctor wasn't sure how much she was following what he was saying.

 

“But I am worried Coco. Last time I went to pursue music, I ended up dead and I never got to make it home to you. I only want to be home with you. I'm not going to leave you again.”

 

Coco covered his young hand with her old, wrinkled one. “Papa is home. Papa came back.”  she said simply.

 

“I did.” Héctor smiled back down at her.

 

Héctor was home, but he also wasn't. His home was with Coco and his family – but it was also with Imelda, and she was waiting for him.  She was his home too. She needed him too. Who would be making her laugh and helping her relax and telling her she was wonderful everyday if he was stuck here?

 

It had been such a rare, beautiful and unexpected gift to be able to get to know his living relatives, to be able to hold Coco in his arms again.  But it was borrowed time. The re-animated were only ever meant to be visiting. They were just passing through _._ They weren’t properly alive. They didn’t age or die.  They didn’t belong here.

 

Héctor was starting to become anxious about the fact that he never even felt a hint of the flower puff. He'd been trying to get back to Imelda, but nothing was working.  He was running out of ideas.

 

“See Coco, at first I thought it was just being with you. _Dios Mio_ Coco, I missed you so much my soul ached.” Héctor started listing out all the things he thought would have made him puff back home.

 

 “Then I thought maybe it was just being able to spend time with everyone in the family properly. I really wanted to make it home for Christmas – and I got that. I got to spend Christmas with my family... but it wasn't enough for me to _puff.”_   He mimed the flower explosion and Coco stared at his wiggling fingers, entranced.

 

“Then I thought that it was shoes, but shoes didn't help.” He gave a rueful shrug.

 

“I even died again, saving Manny, but I'm still here.” Héctor explained, and Coco smiled blankly back at him.

 

“Papa is here.” Coco said, then stifled a yawn.

 

“I am. I am still here, Mija.” Héctor said, leaning over to give her a little kiss on her forehead as she settled in to sleep.

 

“Maybe this is it Coco? Maybe I am meant to do what I originally set out to accomplish. I just wanted to provide for this family and share my music.” 

 

They had been two simple reasons, and Héctor thought they were pretty good reasons. Imelda had disagreed, and they had quarrelled. She didn't want him to go. She said they could make enough to get by in Santa Cecilia. They made enough to scrape by. But Héctor didn't want to just scrape by.

 

Imelda had come from such a good family, and she'd given up everything to be with him. She deserved so much more! Héctor wanted to give her everything. He wanted to treat Imelda and Coco like they were princesses. He wanted to make enough money that they would be respectable.  Sharing his music was the best way of doing that.

 

Maybe Héctor had to share music properly and make CDs or Spotify songs or something. Héctor shared his music with Miguel every weekend to an increasingly crowded plaza. People loved their music. They made everyone dance and enjoy themselves in the spring sunshine. Luisa kept talking about viral videos. Apparently now his music was being shared with the whole world on the internet. Héctor didn't quite understand how the internet worked, but he'd take Luisa's word for it.

 

Or maybe it was the money thing.

 

When Héctor had asked Senora Rivera for Imelda's hand, her father had said some very brutal and unkind things about Héctor, concluding with: _“Can't you see he's a wastrel with no family and no future. He will leave you alone in the gutter, mark my words. You can't trust his type. I'll not have you bring shame upon this family and be seen parading around with this worthless son-of-a-whore."_ He'd meant it literally too. Héctor was the orphaned, penniless, bastard child of a prostitute.

 

That's not the sort of thing anyone ever lets you forget.

 

Héctor knew all the son-of-a-whore jokes. 

 

His mother had been young. She wasn't from Santa Cecilia. She'd come to the Sisters of Mercy for help. She'd died a few days after giving birth to him from an infection. Héctor didn't have a picture of her, or even know her name. But he'd felt extremely protective of her all the same. He hated the way that people talked about his mother.

 

Being the son of a whore hadn't been fun, but Héctor learned to joke along with it.  If he was funny enough, he could make people laugh with him, and not at him.  But it had still riled him. He'd written _Juanita_ when he'd been fifteen, taking all those 'your mother was such an ugly whore...' comments that he knew all too well and turning them around. _Ha Ha, jokes on you. She might have been a whore, but she still wouldn't have slept with you, because that's how ugly you are!_ The punchline still made people giggle to this day.

 

Imelda had come from a good, wealthy and proper family. Héctor wanted so much to be worthy of Imelda and never bring shame or ridicule upon her, or their daughter. He wanted to make enough money for them to be 'respectable'. He never wanted 'grand-daughter of a whore' to be thrown at Coco.

 

They'd both decided Coco would only have Imelda’s last name, not his. (Espósito - the name given to all bastard and unwanted children).  He'd suggested that he could change his name, for Imelda. Then they could be a proper family, with everybody having the same last name. They could be respectable Riveras together.

 

And they were...for four brief, beautiful years.

 

But Héctor had left. If Héctor was being honest with himself, he really wanted to prove to himself, to Imelda's father, to the town, that he wasn't just a worthless son-of-a-whore. He wanted them all to know he was worth something. He'd always laughed off the teasing and the comments. He'd pretended it didn't bother him, but in his heart of hearts, it did.

 

“I wanted to make enough money to take care of you and Mama Imelda properly. All I wanted was to make you both so proud of me and provide for you.  Maybe that's what this is about."

 

Coco nodded, but her eyes were looking a little blank.

 

“So, do you think I should do it Coco? Everyone can hear me sing your song how it is _meant_ to sound then – but it won’t be _ours_ anymore. But you'll be able to hear me sing it properly when I'm not...here anymore.”

 

Luisa had pointed out that it would be a good idea, in case Héctor puffed back unexpectedly. He'd been so happy lately, after all, according to Luisa.  She said if he did a recording, they could still play his voice singing the song for Mama Coco then. That more than anything had convinced Héctor that it would be a good thing to do. But he'd still wanted to talk to Coco first.

 

The papers were downstairs.  Luisa and Enrique had gone through it thoroughly with some lawyer. It was a good deal.  A re-recording of all his old songs. They were just waiting for Héctor to agree and sign it. He'd been hesitating.

 

Coco turned to him, and her eyes focussed clearly on him for a brief moment. She took his hand and gave it the softest squeeze. “I love it when you sing, Papa.”

 

-0-

 

The shoe business was booming. There had been a massive increased demand through internet orders. Berto had set up a website some time ago. After Héctor's first interview they had been flooded with orders from people wanting shoes just like his. 

 

It had kept Elena very busy.  They had to hire some extra people. Some of Luisa, Berto and Gloria’s friends had joined them in the workshop.  Elena felt so glad that she could provide work for their friends and neighbours.

 

The whole music thing was going very well as far as Elena could tell, though she was trying not to pay too much attention to it. She let music into the house, but she wasn't going to let it take over her life. 

 

Luisa had put many videos on YouTube, which had caused a bit of a sensation. The plaza was always crowded and bursting with energy when her boys would play music there. Tourism to the city had increased, as people came from far and wide, hoping to see a live performance.

 

The music company had a photographer and journalist come to the house, to do a more professional interview with Héctor.  He was his usual charming self. Both of those polished people were smiling widely and relaxing before too long.  They took a few photos of Héctor, grinning his dorky grin and relaxing in the courtyard. At first, they'd tried to make him look serious and thoughtful – but very quickly the photographer realised that this wasn't possible with Héctor.

 

Elena read it. The article was titled: _A Blast from the Past – Héctor Rivera on music, family and what's important in life._ Héctor came off very well in it – still funny, but less ridiculous than he normally was. He'd said some very sensible things for once. He'd talked about how proud he was of all his family in a way that made something warm curl up in Elena's chest. She tried to push the soft fond feeling away.

 

Pah! She had never needed or wanted a musician's approval.... but it was nice to have it all the same.

 

The article also contained the gleeful titbit about why Héctor always called Ernesto De La Cruz 'Butt-chin'.  His chin was apparently the one part of his appearance that Ernesto had felt self-conscious about. Ernesto De La Cruz thought it was too square, and too wide and the cleft made it look like a butt. Apparently, Ernesto would get drunk and then cry about his chin on Héctor's shoulders.

 

There was a part of the article that annoyed her though. The journalist had written _Héctor's death at the young age of 21 was a great tragedy to the music world._ The music world could go hang, as far as Elena was concerned. It was a great tragedy for her family!

 

Rosa became a little grumpy after the interview because these photos were now decorating some of her friends' bedroom walls. She could no longer ignore their huge, obvious crushes on her great, great grandpa. She'd go over to friends' houses and see Héctor's goofy face looking at her all the time. She'd invite her friends over and they'd just stare at Héctor dopily – and no homework or nail-polishing got done. It was annoying her.

 

Héctor was apparently regarded as 'a tall drink of water' by lots of the girls in town. They were 'thirsty' for him. They thought his jug-ears were 'sexy', his smile was 'adorable’, and his eyes were 'soulful'.  Héctor seemed both extremely confused and rather amused by this latest development in his fame.

 

Héctor mostly delighted in reminding Victoria at every opportunity that jug-ears were _sexy_ now – so she should start thanking him for his 'crappy genes'. Victoria was less than impressed with this and was very sarcastic about Héctor's other 'crappy genes'.

 

“I am sorry Rosa, I can't help it if I'm _muy guapo.”_ Héctor said with a wide, teasing smile and a shrug, before asking seriously, _“_ Your friends do know that I'm married to your Mama Imelda and I love her dearly, don't they?”

 

“Yes. And that makes it _worse._ They love that whole loyal-even-beyond-the-grave thing.”

 

There were other drawbacks to the music thing. Elena had gotten into an argument at the supermarket when the fool cashier had been chatting about their local celebrity. He thought it would be appropriate to tell her Héctor Rivera jokes.

 

" You know what they say - musicians don't die, they just _de-_ compose."

 

Elena frowned severely.

 

“Okay, try this one. Where does Héctor Rivera shop? - Forever 21! Get it, Senora?”

 

Elena began unfastening her shoe.

 

“Ah, Héctor Rivera jokes. They _never get old._ ” he continued blithely unaware of the fury Elena was about to unleash. 

 

The cashier felt her **wrath.**  

 

He wouldn't be making any more stupid jokes about her Héctor now.

 

Elena wondered if she was being too over-protective. Héctor might have liked the jokes. He did love to laugh. But she'd also noticed that he'd joke about the things that hurt him too. Elena thought Héctor was secretly much more sensitive than he ever let on.

 

She couldn't stand the thought of people making fun of him or mocking him for being murdered at a young age. She wanted to slap them all with her good sandals. Even if it was all light-hearted teasing, some things would never be funny. Héctor being murdered a week past his twenty-first birthday was one of them.

 

However, the biggest drawback of the music thing was now Enrique drove Héctor to the city twice a week to do some recording. Héctor's ridiculousness seemed to have rubbed off on Enrique during these car trips. Now they loved making dumb jokes and horrible puns together – not caring if no one else found them funny.

 

 “The train driver's boss said to him “You are terrible! How many trains did you derail last year?” and the train driver replies with “I don't know. It's so hard to _keep track._ ”  Héctor told Rosa, eyes shining in anticipation of her reaction.

 

“Héctor, that's bad. That's really bad. And you should feel bad.” Rosa had groaned.  “How can the girls at school think _this_ is attractive!?” she added, gesturing towards a chuckling Héctor with a great deal of bemusement, before she wandered away.  

 

“You think that one's bad. Try this -” Enrique piped up after her retreating figure. “-How's the long-distance relationship going? So _far,_ so good.”

 

Rosa groaned even louder.

Terrible.

 

Idiots.

 

They were both terrible idiots. 

 

They were as funny as a judgemental vegan at an all-you-can-eat-meat barbecue. All the children would groan while those two terrible idiots laughed themselves silly. Victoria started audibly thanking God, Jesus, the Virgin Mary and all the saints that Héctor hadn't passed on his terrible joke gene. At least her jokes were funny. Luisa now had an 'awful joke' jar for Enrique. Several of the jokes were so bad they had been banned from the household. 

 

A short sample of jokes banished from the Rivera Household:

 

  * _“Did you know a man got his entire left side cut off – but don't worry. He's all right now.”_



  * _“What do you call it when some midget waves at you? A microwave!”_ (that joke seemed to one of Héctor's favourites and he had been dramatically saddened when it earned a place on the banned list.)



 

  * _“I accidentally drank food colouring last night and I ended up dyeing inside.”_



  * _“I had a fear of speed bumps – but I got over it.”_



  * _“I hate how funerals are at 9 am. I'm not really a mourning person.”_



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the title is from Paparazzi, by Lady Gaga. 
> 
> I got the idea for Hector's last name from one of the many Coco fics I have been devouring lately. I am 98 percent sure it is a Loracarol fic. (Go read her werewolf AU. It's amazing!). Thanks for the amazing idea lovely!
> 
> The name Esposito was the last name given to orphaned/unwanted/bastard children. It literally translates as "to put outside" - just like Hector was put outside (rejected) his family. Like damn, Hector, even your last name is tragic. No wonder he wanted to change it, and have a 'wanted' family name. 
> 
> It is more common practise for people to have both their parent's last names. But Coco is only a Rivera, so Imelda and Hector chose not to give her Hector's. However, I think this was something they would have agreed upon. Hector doesn't want any 'shame' associated with his wonderful Coco, and was happy to go against tradition and take Imelda's name. 
> 
> So I head-canon that Hector had very humble beginnings, and would have been teased about his Mama a fair bit when he was a kid. He was also probably told to 'be grateful for having a roof over his head, when his mama came from the gutter' a lot by the nuns who raised him. It would have been how he started using humour, cheerfulness and wit as a defense mechanism - but he's actually quite a sensitive soul. 
> 
> It would have been the inspiration for 'everyone knows Juanita'. You just know that Hector is so salty, he would have introduced that song by dedicating it to one of dudes who teased him. " This is a song that goes out to Jorge," etc. Then poor hapless Jorge is the butt of jokes for the rest of the night. 
> 
> I feel like "The World Es Mi Familia" makes a lot of sense as a song written for Ernesto. They were as close as brothers and shared a similiar goal before Hector got married and had a family. That song would have been like a celebration of what Hector thinks is a shared dream.
> 
> Now I'm thinking about how much it would have messed with Ernesto's head, hearing this kid who looks ever so slightly like his dead friend, singing That Song at his Party. It's probably why he reacts so quickly. Ernesto probably hears the songs (he stole) so much that they have become white noise to him, especially remember me. But a few bars of Miguel singing That Song - his song, and he is captivated. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who leaves feedback. I really appreciate all your kind words and comments! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	9. Ode to my family...

_Summer, 2019._

 

 

An album was released.  It was wildly popular. The music people wanted Héctor to do a tour and sing in stadiums. Héctor refused outright. He said it was because he didn’t like stadiums that much. Abel had taken him to a stadium once for a football match, and once was enough for Héctor.

 

Héctor didn’t seem to know how to react to his new-found fame. He was currently doing his best to ignore it. He was much more content to stay in Santa Cecilia and play to an increasingly crowded Plaza with Miguel.  Héctor didn’t want his life to change because he was famous.  

 

The album went “platinum” – whatever that meant. It was apparently a very good achievement, musically. Elena cooked a feast, Franco broke out the “good stuff”, and Enrique got Héctor his own smartphone, bluetooth speaker and signed him up for spotify to celebrate.  Elena suspected Enrique also did this to stop Miguel and Héctor absconding with his phone and speaker to listen to spotify.

 

Enrique showed them all the true meaning of patience and fortitude when he took the time to teach Héctor how to use these gadgets properly.

 

“The future is amazing. Can you imagine if we had smartphones a century ago? I could have just sent Imelda an electronic letter, telling her I had bought my train ticket and I was coming home, but Ernesto had poisoned me. We wouldn't have had our misunderstanding then.” Héctor declared when he finally sent a text successfully (after two hours of Enrique’s demonstrations, instructions and incalculable patience).

 

Elena stood frozen in horror. She was visualising what Héctor would have even sent at that particular moment. Would it have been something like _Imelda I love you and miss you, I won't make it home. I'm just being a little bit murdered at the moment. Sorry. Bye. xxx_.  

 

Now she was imagining how her Mama Imelda would have reacted to such a text message. The mind boggled.  Elena suspected that everyone from Santa Cecilia clear to Mexico City would have felt Mama Imelda's wrath.

 

-0-

 

Héctor : **Miguel. It's Héctor . I'm sending you an electronic letter.**

Miguel: **I know. I'm sitting with you, helping you write it.**

Héctor : **This is great. I can send you electronic letters all the time now.**

Miguel: **You can join us in 2019 and call then texts, Héctor .**

Héctor : **No.**

 

Miguel: _Gif of Gina Linetti rolling her eyes._

 

Héctor : **Dios Mio! How do you make the picture do that?**

Miguel: **Stop texting me and I'll show you.**

Héctor : _Gif of penguin pushing over another penguin._

Héctor _: Gif of penguin tripping over another penguin._

Héctor : _Gif of  penguin cuddling another penguin._

Héctor : **I liked that penguin movie.**

Miguel: **I know you did.  But how did you feel about this movie?**

Miguel: _Gif of Macaulay Culkin screaming from Home Alone._

Héctor : **Why Miguel? Why you send me this terrible moving image of a poor abandoned child screaming.**

-0-

 

Enrique had shown Héctor how to use Whatsapp and added him to the family group chat. He’d shown Héctor how to private message and video call people. Héctor loved whatsapp. Whatsapp was amazing. He wished there had been whatsapp and smartphones when he had been alive and touring.

 

He could have called Imelda every night then and seen her and Coco’s beautiful faces. Then maybe he would not have felt like his whole body was aching with homesickness, and he wouldn’t have had all those fights with Ernesto and Ernesto would have never taken it into his head to kill Héctor.

 

Coco liked calling people on Whatsapp too. Héctor would scooch up next to her on the bed, and she’d lean her head against his shoulder and they would call people together.  They called everyone in the family. They were probably doing this a bit too often, because Elena was getting annoyed. Every time they had called her today, she had seemed a little grumpier. 

 

“Call her again.” Coco urged, a mischievous look on her face. “I want to see my mija.”

 

Coco was having a good day again. Héctor would never deny her anything on a good day.  What was one more call after they had already called Elena twelve times. The phone rang.

 

“WHAT!?” Elena’s grumpy face answered. “What is it _this time,_ Héctor ?”

 

“My Coco just wanted to say hello again.” Héctor said, holding the phone up so Elena could see them both. Coco gave Elena a little wave.

 

“Héctor stop bothering me and using Mama Coco as an excuse. You know I’m in the middle of cooking lunch!” Elena grumped down the phone.

 

Coco whispered something in Héctor ’s ear. He looked back at the camera. “Actually Elena, Mama Coco wants another hot chocolate. I’m going to come into the kitchen and make it for her. Can you check if we have enough milk?”

 

“If you are coming into the kitchen, you can check for yourself!”

 

“I know, but this way I get to call you and see your lovely face and you can check for me.”

 

Elena rolled her eyes. “You are only two rooms away. You’ll use those gigantic giraffe legs of yours and walk yourself over here - if you know what’s good for you!”

 

“Do you want to wave to Mama Coco?” Héctor said. Mama Coco had been waving and smiling widely at her daughter for the duration of this conversation.

 

“Mama, I love you. Tell your father to stop calling me all the time, or I will break his smartphone and then there will be no spotify for him.” Elena growled, sounding frustrated.

 

“But Elena…”

 

“NO SPOTIFY FOR YOU!” Elena yelled down the phone, before her face softened as she looked at her smiling mother. “Mama, I love you, but I’m hanging up now.”

 

The video chat closed.

 

Mama Coco waited exactly 47 seconds before she turned to Héctor, saying “Should we call her again?”

 

-0-

 

The music people wanted Héctor to write more original songs. They had once again offered him a very good contract. Luisa and the lawyer had negotiated exceptionally well for him. But Héctor hadn’t even glanced at it.

 

Luisa was always patient with Héctor, but Elena could tell she was getting a little bewildered with his reluctant attitude. Something was bothering him, Elena could tell. However, Luisa was never rude or gruff with Héctor. She didn't yell at him or push him to tell the truth. When something was bothering Héctor, it had to be prized out of him like he was a particularly belligerent clam.

 

“Héctor, what is this fresh ridiculousness about? I thought you loved making music.” Elena scolded one morning. They were still normally the first two people awake in the house.  That rude stray cat had been sitting in Héctor 's lap. She chose that moment to lift her head and glare at Elena. Elena glared back. Fool cat.

 

“I do, but they want new songs.”  He said as he lifted the vile beast closer and gave her a little cuddle before setting her back on the ground.  

 

“Yes, so?”

 

“I don't know if I have any more songs in me.”  Héctor said, looking sadly down at the cat. Elena had not considered this. She had just always assumed Héctor was something of a music machine and could pull a decent melody out of thin air.

 

“What makes you think that?”

 

“I was so young when I wrote those songs. It was a different time in my life. I had Imelda beside me. I had my whole life ahead of me. I was happy when I wrote them.”  Héctor confessed.

 

“Are you unhappy now?”  Elena said gently, reaching out to cup his face. “Tell me the truth.”

 

“Oh, you know me, Elena. I'm never unhappy.”  Héctor said looking back up at her with his wide, easy grin. But that was a blatant lie and they both knew it.

 

“You said you write songs for people – maybe you can write some for us.” Elena suggested. He was always singing little made up tunes for little Coco and Manny and Benny. Some of them were quite catchy. 

 

“You want me to write songs for the family?” He sounded surprised.

 

“Yes, and I have something that I think might help.” Elena opened the cupboard and got out the little present for him she'd hidden there.  She'd intended it as a little nudge in the right direction.  Enrique had helped her order it over the internet. It had arrived yesterday. “If you’re going to write new songs, you’ll need a new song book.” She said in a brisk, practical tone.

 

She slid her gift over the table to him. Héctor unwrapped it rapidly, like a kid on Christmas morning.  His eyes widened in astonishment. It was leather bound with his name embossed on the front, so no one would ever mix up who had written what was inside. Héctor, even with his fascination with technology and with all the resources now available to him, still preferred to handwrite his music, so Elena had gotten him the best songbook the internet could provide.

 

“You got this for me?” Héctor was looking at Elena in hopeful astonishment, with the widest smile.  Elena felt a little embarrassed at how emotional he was being. She just wanted him to be a little happier – and he’d said music had always made him happy. Fool musician. He was always so full of feelings.

 

“No. I got it for the next-door neighbour.” Elena sassed. “It's got your name on the front, you fool.” She joked, trying to lighten the mood.

 

That was enough feelings for one morning.

 

-0-

 

The songs he wrote were a mixed bag. Héctor had changed up his style a bit throughout creating them. There were fast, happy, toe-tapping songs, sweet children's songs, and slower, melodic ballads.

 

The music people were confident the new album would be a huge success.  They were releasing the songs slowly. The songs played everywhere that summer. They were playing on the radio, in the supermarket, in the plaza.  Héctor had experimented with a few modern sounds, instruments and techniques in the new album, but there were still melodic and stylistic similarities to the songs he’d written nearly a century ago.

 

Héctor was interviewed by some music journalist who called him “a musical genius” – to his face! Héctor was delighted to be called a genius. He was insufferable for days afterwards! Being called a genius was certainly a rare event for that fool musician!

 

 

At least now, there was no doubt that Héctor had been the songwriter behind all of Ernesto’s greatest hits. The success of Héctor’s new songs seemed to finally silence all the detractors and faithfully loyal Ernesto fans. It was painfully obvious that Ernesto had never produced anything of his own. He just sang the same Héctor songs for 21 years.

 

Elena could hear her family in the songs. She got to hear all the songs, even the unreleased ones, as Hector practiced. She'd felt her heart swell with pride when she heard them. The songs were good. They were written with wit and warmth and love. He'd done the family proud.

 

There were boppy, cheerful, dancing songs like _Chamaco,_ which Héctor had written for Miguel. It was an excellent song, with a fast beat and jubilant melody. The music people had chosen it as the first ‘single.’

 

W _arm Bodie_ s was a song for Abel that contained lots of tongue-in-cheek zombie movie references.  _Driving to the City_ (for Enrique) _, Viral Videos_ (for Luisa), _Tropical fish_ (for Gloria) _, Technology Museum_ (for Berto) _,_ and _The Philosopher_ (for Franco), were all happy, catchy melodies. They were all either very sweet or rather amusing when you listened to the lyrics.   

 

Héctor had written a few different songs for Benny and Manny from the little ditties they would make up on the walk to school together. They were obviously children's songs, with cheerful, clear, repetitive tunes and simple lyrics. There was a new lullaby for their little Coco.

 

More serious songs like _Perfect Girl_ (for Rosa), _Long-sighted_ and _The Artist_ (for Victoria) and _Photograph_ (another song for Miguel) featured as well. _Precious to me_ was about all the children.

 

 _Morning Coffee_ became one of Elena's favourite songs. It was exactly the sort of melody she liked. It was one of the more heartfelt songs on the new album and Elena loved it. The lyrics were great. It was like it was written just for her – as indeed it had been.

 

 _My Coco,_ for her ailing mother, was a very beautiful song, but the lyrics were heart-breaking when you really listened to them. Héctor knew his daughter was slipping again. You could hear it in his voice. Elena hadn't thought Héctor had that kind of gravitas in him. It surprised her.

 

 _Ambulance Ride_ was clearly about the car accident. The lyrics were about how tragic accidents just happen unpredictably on random Thursday nights, and people shouldn't blame themselves, but try shake it off and move forward. Abel seemed more drawn to this song than _Warm Bodies._ Elena suspected it had been written for him _._

 

 _What a self-important jerk!_ was darkly humorous. It was about a psychopath with a butt-chin who ruined everything. It was full of petty, funny cheap shots about Ernesto De La Cruz, (all of which were true, according to Héctor in his interview with the music journalist). Elena found a petty satisfaction in listening to it. She hoped the song would make it to the otherside and that asshole would be taunted by it until he died of shame (metaphorically).

 

 _Hitch-hiking down the 190_ was about Héctor 's journey home and the various people he had met on the road. The chorus was about walking barefoot down the highway. Elena remembered how he had turned up that December morning, shivering and with no shoes. Héctor had taken what she had always assumed was an unpleasant experience and he’d turned it into a cheerful, happy song.

_Old friend_ was about someone called Chicharrón. Miguel said he had been Héctor 's friend in the Land of the Dead, but he'd been forgotten.

 

There were five different songs for Mama Imelda. Two were cheerful, happy love songs and two were slower and sweeter ballads. One was so full of longing and heartbreak it nearly made people cry in the supermarket over their bananas when it came on the radio. Elena couldn't listen to him sing it without feeling her own heart get heavy.  It was a good song, but hearing it made her feel desperate to go find Frano and just hold him and never let it go. 

 

Elena called Héctor an idiot to his face, day in and day out, but quietly she had to admit to herself that she really liked his music.

 

-0-

 

Things Héctor liked about writing music again: a short list.

 

  * Playing on his guitar every day.
  * His new songbook.
  * The fact that Elena had given him a songbook and wanted him to write more music.
  * Playing his new songs for Coco and the family.
  * Miguel’s face the first time he heard Héctor had tried to write something that Miguel would love as much as he loved the _Jug Ears_ song.
  * Hearing Miguel proudly inform everyone that _Chamaco_ was his song – even people who hadn’t asked.
  * Enrique singing along with him in the car to all the songs.
  * Enrique getting the audio files from the music people and resetting the ringtones of Hector’s phone.
  * Abel’s annoyance that his ringtone was _Warm Bodies._
  * Being able to finally tease Abel about his zombie obsession and throw all the zombie references back at him, when Abel complained “why do I get the zombie song?”
  * Quietly telling Abel that _Ambulance Ride_ was for him too. Abel didn’t like to make a big deal about things, so Héctor tried to be as undramatic as possible.
  * Franco’s open delight at being called a philosopher.
  * Telling the world about all the weird, embarrassing things he knew about Ernesto through song. Take that, butt-chin!
  * Finally being vindicated as the songwriter behind Ernesto’s success. Not everyone had believed Héctor and his family and the evidence before. However, Héctor’s “musical genius” shut them all up.
  * Being called a genius. That had never happened to Héctor before.
  * Informing Victoria that he actually had ‘genius genes’ – so she should be happy about that.
  * Quietly knowing that Miguel was going to be an even bigger “musical genius” than he was. Miguel was really talented. He was going to be better than Héctor one day. It made Héctor felt a little warm inside knowing that the kid had inherited his love of music and his musical talents from him.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely readers, 
> 
> Thanks for your feedback and comments. I love hearing your thoughts. 
> 
> Title is from "Ode to my Family" by the Cranberries. 
> 
> This is a short and sweet little chapter, mostly so that Hector can have nice things. (his own smartphone, encouragement, success, recognition, a cat - that kind of thing. )
> 
> Next chapter, the family will go on a big holiday together to the beach. Til then!


	10. You came home for the endless summer...

 

-0-

 

“I found her. Adriana. She's the right Adriana this time.” Enrique said as they passed the exit for the city. “She wants to meet us first.”

 

“You've actually found Victoria's Adriana?” Héctor said, excited.

 

Enrique had been Héctor’s partner-in-match-making on this. (“Partner-in-crime more like,” Luisa had snorted, “Tell Victoria I had nothing to do with this when she inevitably finds out and gets furious.”) Enrique had been going through the archives and using the internet to search for Adriana. They had been through a few incorrect Adrianas in their search.

 

“You really think seeing Adriana again will be enough to send Victoria home?”  Enrique asked.

 

“I think it's worth a shot. They say now we have to fulfil what we missed out on in life, and Victoria missed out on getting to be with her lover.”

 

"Héctor, don't say lover. No one needs to hear their great grandpa say lover." Enrique suppressed a fake shudder.  "Besides I think lesbians prefer life-partner."

 

"Fine. She never got to be with her _life-partner_."  Héctor said sarcastically, raising his eyebows.

 

"Don't get sassy with me, son." Enrique said, taking one hand off the wheel to ruffle Héctor 's hair then give him a playful shove. “What about you? You ever think about going home?” Enrique asked after a moment, glancing at Héctor out of the corner of his eyes. He was trying to sound casual. He did his best to keep the fatherly concern from his voice, but Héctor still heard it.

 

 Héctor really liked Enrique. They had a lot of fun on these drives – but sometimes (quite often, actually) Enrique would try to ‘dad’ him. He would treat Héctor the way he treated Miguel. Héctor never knew how to react to Enrique’s ‘dadding’ aside from brushing it off.  

 

“Eh, it happens to everybody eventually. I'm sure my turn will come up too.”  Héctor said with a shrug, matching Enrique's light and breezy tone.

 

Adriana had retired to the pretty town of Mazunte, the same seaside town she had planned to meet Victoria in all those years ago. There was something oddly romantic about that. She was around Elena's age. She was elegant, classy, fierce – she reminded Héctor a little bit of Imelda.

_Holy crap!_ He and Victoria even had the same taste in women.

 

Adriana had some photos of Victoria and a bundle of letters tied with a ribbon. The photos had been taken on their one day together, strolling by the stream and into the forest near Santa Cecilia.  Victoria looked happier than Héctor had ever seen her. She was looking at her lover with a smile that reached her eyes.

 

“Why doesn't Victoria contact me herself?”  Adriana had asked them.

 

“She's very nervous about seeing you again. She thinks it is too long ago and you would have forgotten her and moved on by now.” Héctor knew Victoria well enough to guess why.

 

He had felt the same. As the years ticked by on the otherside, and no one ever put his photo up, he began to assume it was because Imelda had remarried and did not love him anymore. He'd tried to be optimistic about this. He loved Imelda so much and he didn't want her to be lonely in life.

 

He'd been so nervous about seeing her when she first arrived in the land of the dead.   _Dios mío_ _,_ the things she'd _shouted_ at him that day. The truth had been so much worse than her remarrying. At least if she had re-married she might have had another chance at happiness. He'd ruined her life when he left with Ernesto. No wonder she'd tried so hard to forget him.

 

“I could never forget Victoria.” Adriana said simply. “You never forget your true love. I would give anything to see her again.”

 

-0-

 

“So, how do we get Victoria here?” Enrique asked, as they began the drive home.

 

“She'll be stubborn. She won’t want to come if she knows we've been meddling in her love-life.” Héctor said.

 

“So, we make it a surprise. She and Adriana can just randomly run into each other.” Enrique suggested.

 

“What reason will we have for bringing her to Mazunte?”   Héctor asked.

 

“Maybe she wants to see a sea turtle?”

 

“Or maybe she wants to do yoga?”

 

“Or get a tattoo?”

 

“Or learn how to surf?”

 

“I have a _real_ idea, Héctor, but you might not like it.” Enrique said diffidently. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before speaking again. “Music. We'll say it's for your music. You're doing a show here or shooting a music video here or something. We all know how reluctant you are to leave home for the music.”

 

Héctor nodded. He wasn't a performing monkey like Ernesto.  He didn't want to do shows, or tour, or make music videos. The plaza suited him fine. He'd made no secret of this. “So, we'll say the whole family needs to come to support you.  She'll come for you.” Enrique said firmly.

 

“This is a good plan, Amigo.”  Héctor said, “But we only do it if Coco can come. I'm not going without Coco.”

 

"We can talk to the nurse about that."

 

Operation: Get Victoria to the beach was in motion.

 

-0-

 

“No, no, no! Absolutely not! I will kill you for putting this idea in her head, you _damn fool musician!”_ Elena was furious.

 

She took off her slipper right then and there and started slapping Héctor about the shoulders with it. She'd overheard him ask Mama Coco if she would like to go to the beach – of all the ridiculous things! Coco had been having a surprisingly _good_ day. She seemed to understand completely. Elena strode in, grabbed Héctor by the collar of his T-shirt and dragged him out so she could yell at him in the hall.

 

They had recently hired a palliative care nurse, Consuelo, to help care for Mama Coco. She'd suffered a big setback when Héctor had been injured. Elena feared it would not be long now. Now Héctor had put the damn fool idea of a little holiday in her head!  “She's an old woman Héctor. She's dying.”  Elena yelled at him, and Héctor recoiled like she'd slapped him.

 

“She's one hundred years old and she's never seen the sea. She got so excited when I asked her. She says it will make her happy.”  Héctor said defensively, standing his ground in the wake of her shoe onslaught. “I just want to make Coco happy.”

 

“Sure, she says she wants to go, but have you thought about how difficult it would be, you idiot.”

 

“Yes. I've talked to Consuelo. She says it's possible. We have to get special transport and accommodation, but she's agreed to come with us. She can help make arrangements.” Héctor fired back. 

 

Hhhhmmm, he'd actually put thought into this. That was irritating.

 

“This is ridiculous. This is the most ridiculous you've ever been!” Elena was still cross.

 

“Elena. My Elena. Come here.” She heard her mother's voice calling her from the room. She walked in and Mama Coco was reaching out for her. Mama Coco took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

 

“I love you my little Elena, and you are right.  I am very old.” Elena felt very chastised. Mama Coco had obviously heard them fighting right outside her door. “I don't have much longer. I would really like to see the ocean before I die. I would like that very much. I want to go with my Papa.”

 

-0-

 

Things that annoyed Elena about going on holiday with Héctor :

 

-His stupidity – what on earth was he thinking? A beach side holiday for the whole family! Ridiculous Musician.  Elena vowed not to have a good time _out of protest!_

 

-His big, sad eyes that he thought were so convincing. (She was also annoyed about the fact that his big sad eyes worked on her, but the less said about that the better! She wasn’t going soft. Pah!)

 

-The fact that the dog and the cat were included in this family holiday. Would she never be free of these street animals!

 

-Héctor repeatedly singing an extremely irritating song for the twins called “Baby Shark.” They would whoop with joy and ask for the song again, and Héctor would indulge them.

 

-Getting “Baby Shark” stuck in her head.

 

Things Elena ended up liking about the holiday, despite herself:

 

-The beach.

-The feeling of sand between her toes.

-The pool.

-Having drinks and food brought to her while she sat by the pool.

-Watching sunsets over the water with Franco.

-Seeing her family happy and relaxing.

 

-0-

 

It was the summer holidays and the whole family had to go to the sea because of Héctor .  He'd finally agreed to do a proper music video – much to Victoria's surprise.  Héctor didn't really go for much of the trappings of the modern music world. He was old-school in every sense. Victoria had secretly been delighted in his choice of location.

 

Mazunte was as beautiful as Victoria always assumed it would be.   She'd wanted to come here her whole life. The pretty town, the beautiful beaches, the peaceful, artistic, slightly hippy vibe – all of it appealed to her.

 

Victoria had chosen it for her planned rendezvous with Adriana all those years ago. It was halfway between where Santa Cecilia and where Adriana lived. They were meeting in the middle. Victoria really wanted to see a sea-turtle. She wanted to hold hands with her love in a crystal blue sea. She'd wanted some space to be herself.  But it hadn't worked out that way. The bus driver had hit a turn too hard on the mountain pass and she'd woken up dead.

 

She was finally here now. She spent her day swimming in the sea and looking at a sea-turtles. At least she got one of the things she wanted.

 

They'd chartered a boat and gone out looking for turtles. The children and Héctor had whooped with joy when they found one. They'd all started jumping over the side in the snorkelling gear to get a closer look at the creature.

 

“She's a beauty, that turtle. She's nearly 150 years old.” The captain had told them when they surfaced.

 

“Hey – She's older than me!” Héctor exclaimed excitedly, unaware of how it sounded to their captain.

 

The captain raised an eyebrow curiously. “I've seen forgotten sandwiches older than you, amigo.” The captain hadn't recognised Héctor, which was why Victoria had chosen him. Then it turned out that he thought Héctor was Victoria's son. This was something that gave the others a great deal of amusement.

 

They spent the afternoon swimming with turtles before heading back. Héctor and Enrique really wanted her to get ready and put on some nice clothes for going out. Enrique was very insistent that she come with him to this beach-side bar. Apparently he had a recommendation from a friend. 

 

Those two idiots were _up to something._ Victoria just couldn't figure out what. She went along with their ridiculousness and put on a nice dress and went out to meet them. She found herself almost frog-marched back to the beach by Héctor and Enrique.

 

They were waiting to be served at a luxurious beach side bar when Victoria felt a gentle tap of her shoulder. She turned to see the most beautiful face she'd ever known. Adriana. After all this time, she still made Victoria's heart beat a little faster.

 

“You are very late for our date.” Adriana said with a quirk of her eyebrows. 

 

-0-

 

Victoria emerged for breakfast in the middle of the morning, with the most shameless sex-hair Elena had ever seen. It looked like she'd been rolling around on haystacks, the beach, the forest floor, then been through a tumble dryer. Her jug-ears were out, her clothes were rumpled. She had a lazy and contented smile on her face. She sat across from Elena and poured herself some coffee.

 

“Okay. I know what you’re thinking.  Yes, I slept with her on the first date.” Victoria said bluntly as she took in Elena's expression.

 

“Good for you!” Enrique called from where he was lounging next to the pool. Elena shot him a savage stare and he looked down, chastised.

 

“Are you sure you should be rushing into things Victoria?” She asked, turning back to her sister. 

 

“I've been waiting my whole life and death for Adriana, so no. I don't think it's rushing. She's actually asked me to move in with her.” Victoria said.

 

That really was rushing!

 

“So soon? You just met this woman again yesterday.” Elena scolded. 

 

Victoria pressed her lips firmly together and looked away. She stared at the ocean and sighed deeply. Elena was reminded abruptly of the hospital waiting room, and the way Victoria had cried when she told Héctor her secret. She had been so relieved and overwhelmed when someone in the family first accepted this part of her.

 

The whole family knew now and had accepted Victoria openly. Victoria had waited until a good day to tell Mama Coco. It had taken ages for her sister to work up the courage, but Mama Coco had smiled benignly and claimed “I knew Mija. I knew the whole time.” Times had changed too. Lesbians could even get married in some states.  The family's easy acceptance had clearly healed some of the hurt for her sweet sister. But she'd never brought it up again with Elena again.

 

Victoria was probably remembering Elena's first reaction. Elena had been so aggressively over-protective, so sure she knew what was best. It had driven Victoria into her shell. It had taken dying and coming back to life for Victoria to dare mention it again. 

 

Now Elena was doing the exact same thing! She was too hostile, always leaping to the worst conclusions about people – just like Mama Imelda. She could have whacked herself with her own slipper.

 

“I am sorry. I just get so worried about you. You are my baby sister.” She said, taking Victoria's hand. Victoria still wouldn't look at her. “Are you happy? With this Adriana? Does she treat you well? That's all that really matters to me.”

 

“Yes. I am happy.” Victoria said, turning back to Elena with her eyes shining.

 

“Then I am happy for you.” Elena said gently. “I truly am.”

 

Her sister got up abruptly then and came over to hug Elena. Elena squeezed her tight.

 

'Thank you.” Victoria whispered in her ear as they pulled apart.

 

Elena cupped Victoria's cheek very delicately and then said very severely “I am happy you found love. But if this Adriana hurts you or makes you sad in anyway, I will slap her with my sandal.”

 

Elena would always be protective, and old habits die hard.

 

-0-

 

They stayed at the beach. The summer was glorious and joyous and no one was ready to go home just yet. The Rivera family never really had a proper holiday - the workshop had always demanded their attention. But now Elena and Franco had hired enough locals that the shoe business kept ticking over without them. School was out for the holidays. They could stay as long as they liked. 

 

Héctor loved seeing his family so happy and relaxed.

 

They’d brought the animals. Miguel couldn’t bear to leave his dog alone.  Héctor had asked Pepita if she wanted to come, so she’d know where the family was. Little Pepita had rubbed herself up against Héctor ’s leg in response, and Héctor took this to mean yes. Dante followed Miguel everywhere loyally, was fawned over by the hotel staff, and generally overfed by everyone. Pepita still came and went as she pleased.  Héctor assumed there was another marigold bridge nearby and she was going backwards and forwards between the lands to visit Imelda.

 

Victoria spent her days frollicking with her girlfriend, looking positively jubilant. Adriana’s love hadn't been enough to send Victoria back, but it she certainly brought Victoria joy.  Héctor was glad to see Victoria smiling properly.  She painted many pictures, experimenting with different styles.

 

Victoria had confided in him that she got a little worried about the apparent age difference between her and Adriana.  Héctor thought it shouldn't matter as long as they loved each other.  “Think of the how the age difference appears between me and Imelda. I'm 21 and she's in her seventies. But I still think she's the most beautiful, sexiest thing in the whole world.”

 

“ _Gross_ Héctor . You can't say sexy in my hearing. You're my grandfather.” Victoria had laughed giving him a playful little shove on his arm.

 

The kids loved being by the beach. Abel, Miguel and Rosa were learning to surf.  They tried teaching Héctor, but he wasn't that co-ordinated at balancing on the board. Rosa said it was because he was a gangly giraffe. His centre of gravity was higher and that made balancing and surfing more difficult.

 

 Héctor told Rosa he wasn’t too tall. She was too short! Then he’d held her surfboard over his head.  Rosa had jumped to reach it. Miguel snuck up behind Héctor  and started tickling him around the middle.  Héctor had dropped to the sand (but he was careful not to drop the surfboard on the kids), giggling and squirming.  Then Abel and Rosa had joined in, and no surfing was done that morning.

 

Héctor liked snorkelling and scuba-diving more. He'd gone with Gloria and Luisa. They’d done the PADI course together. Gloria and Héctor had both blatantly copied off Luisa in the theory test. Luisa was the sort of person who always paid attention in class, put up her hand to ask sensible questions and studied in the evenings.  She was the instructor’s favourite. Still, they all passed. Now they could go out to the reefs and glide past all the fish and turtles, breathing underwater together.

 

The little ones were building castles in the sand, splashing in the shallows and learning to swim. Héctor let Benny and Manny play at burying him.  Berto, Gloria, Enrique and Luisa spent most of their time enjoying lounging around, having food and drink brought to them for once, and swimming whenever they felt like it. They were living like the kings of Prussia. Héctor felt gratified that his music money had been able to give this to his family.  It was good for something after all.

 

Even Elena seemed more relaxed here.  She'd stayed up until the sunrise the night Héctor had done an impromptu performance to celebrate Victoria's engagement to Adriana. Sure it was fast, and Héctor understood why Elena worried for Victoria. But Héctor had always been a fool for love. He could see how in love Adriana and Victoria were.  He'd played all his best love songs for them and got the whole place dancing and applauding them.  The party had lasted until the sun started peaking over the horizon.

 

He'd done the video for _Chamaco –_ Miguel's new song.  It was him, with his guitar, singing on a beach, with footage of surfers, palm trees, the pretty town, turtles and his family being happy. All the family members who wanted to participate in the video had cameos.  Miguel, Gloria and the twins were all large hams who loved performing for the camera – so they had a great deal of screentime, but almost everyone else wanted to be a part of his song as well.

 

His Coco loved it here. She was having good days again.   She was soothed by the ocean water.  Every morning Héctor, Elena and Consuelo took Coco to one of the tranquil bays. The sea was a beautiful aquamarine colour. It lapped gently against the shore. Héctor would carry Coco into the water.  The three of them would support her as she smiled and splashed and floated.  She always pouted when it was time to come home, but Héctor didn't want to over-tire her.

 

“Tomorrow, My Coco. I'll bring you back tomorrow.”

 

He hoped that the promise of the sea tomorrow would help Coco hold on for a little bit longer.

 

-0-

 

Elena was sitting with Victoria, having a sneaky tequila with her sister. They never drank it in front of Héctor. He couldn’t even bear the smell of it. But it had always been their favourite and Héctor was now otherwise occupied. He and Enrique were having some kind of odd competition in the water. They each had a twin on their shoulders and the twins were trying to push each other off their lofty perches, while Rosa and Miguel splashed everyone.  

 

 Berto and Abel and Franco were lazing on the sand in the shade of the palm trees, talking about football animatedly, while little Coco sat on Franco's lap, reaching over to pat the sand excitedly.  Adriana was lazing on the sun loungers with Luisa and Gloria. They were all getting their toes done. Occasionally peels of laughter could be heard from the cluster of women. 

 

Mama Coco sat with her two daughters, Consuelo tending to her, just watching the family with a contented smile on her face.  Her eyes were frequently drawn to Héctor, as he laughed with the children in the water.  He was now using his stupid, gangly height hold the kids up high above the water. They would stand on his shoulders before throwing themselves into the water with a splash. Their joyful shrieks echoed up to the bar.

 

“Papa came home.”  Mama Coco said with a happy sigh.

 

“He did.” Elena replied, as she patted Mama Coco's hand.

 

“I'm so glad he did – that we did.” Victoria said as she twirled the new ring on her finger.  “We got to come back to life together. Maybe I'll never find what will “fulfil” me enough so I can _puff_ back. But maybe it doesn't matter anymore.”  She made little air-quotes as she said the word _fulfil_ with much sarcasm. She lowered her voice and gestured Elena closer.

 

“I think it's bullshit to be honest. The whole “getting everything you want” to return thing.  It _can't be right_.”  Victoria screwed her face up quizzically in thought.

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“I've already gotten everything I ever wanted and I'm still here.  I'm getting married to the woman I love.  My family knows and accepts me as I am. I'm getting better as an artist.”  Victoria took a long sip of her tequila sunrise and stared out at the ocean. “I get to be me now. I can just be myself – and I'm enough.”  She declared to the sea.  “And now, look at us! We're sitting in a fancy beachside bar, drinking tequila without a care in the world. I love being here. I couldn't be happier.”

 

 “Don't tell Héctor I said this, but I feel really happy here too.  He was right about coming here. It was a good idea.” Elena confided in Victoria. She hated it when Héctor was right, but she could give him this one at least. This beachside holiday had been wonderful.

 

“Papa came home.” Mama Coco said again. Elena squeezed her hand.

 

“Ah, Mama. That Papa of yours is more than a 'un poco' loco.  But I'm glad he's with us. We do have more fun with him around.” 

 

“Dios mío! It's happening!” Victoria gasped, looking up with wide, alarmed eyes. She dropped her tequila glass and it shattered on the ground.

 

“What's happening?”  Elena asked, alarmed. There was a strange breeze whipping around them now, that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

 

Victoria glanced at Adriana on the beach, so full of love and longing.  “Elena, I love you. I love the whole family. Tell Adriana I love her so much.  I'll wait for her, on the otherside.”  She was speaking rapidly, trying to get all her words out in time.  “And I get it now. Tell Héctor it's not about just getting what you want, it's... ”

 

The sudden huge explosion of petals cut off Victoria's last words. The flurry of delicate, orange petals clouded Elena's vision. When Elena looked back, her beautiful, brilliant sister had vanished from her life – again.

 

-0-

 

Things that would have made Victoria's stomach clench, if she still had a stomach, upon her return to the in the Land of the Dead: a short list.

 

  * Wanting Adriana, but not wanting anything bad to happen to her beautiful girlfriend either and resigning herself to an epically long wait. Once you've had a taste of love, it is so hard to be without the other person.
  * Working up the courage to talk to Frida. She and Héctor had been friends. Héctor said she was really nice and Victoria should just _talk_ to her when they got back. But Victoria had always low-key assumed Héctor would be there to make the proper introductions.
  * Telling her dead family about her engagement. It seemed her father had definitely known her secret, even though she'd never told him. Everyone seemed happy for her.
  * Telling her dead family about giving up making shoes to be an artist. (They were much more perturbed by this news than they had been about her being a lesbian.)
  * Mama Imelda's hopeful face as she asked “Where's my Héctor?”
  * Realising that the stray cat Héctor had adopted was actually Pepita.
  * Realising her package had actually gotten through and all her family knew that she had gotten snozzled on Héctor 's painkillers.
  * Explaining the circumstances around "her package."
  * Listening to Mama Imelda's many words about "the package." Mama Imelda had _many feelings_ about the package.
  * Explaining in full to Mama Imelda all about what had been going on in the land of the living, after she had asked “Just what exactly was going on?” in _that_ tone of voice.
  * Seeing all the different emotions flash across Mama Imelda's face as Victoria told her exactly what had been going on.
  * Suggesting that maybe Héctor was just waiting for Mama Coco to pass too, so they could return together – while knowing this was a lie and feeling that squirm in her guts. Victoria was hoping the imminent arrival of her daughter would distract Mama Imelda.
  * Having Mama Coco appear a short time later without Héctor.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the title is from the jezabels "Endless summer." I just really like that song. Other contenders were George Ezra's "shotgun" (because it's a great summery tune) and "Another Story", by head and heart. It has a beautiful, very sad video clip which kind of inspired the Victoria/Adriana arc.
> 
> Once again, enormous thanks to everyone who comments and leaves feedback! Your words make my day!


	11. Isn't it ironic?

 

Mama Coco deteriorated rapidly after her daughter had exploded in a great big puff of flower petals right in front of her.  They cut the holiday short and took her back home, hoping that familiar surrounds would help.

 

It didn't.

 

Mama Coco didn't understand where Victoria had gone or why she wasn't coming back. She got confused. She forgot everything. Nothing Héctor did seemed to help. A week after Victoria's return, Mama Coco had looked blankly at Héctor, saying “Who are you?”

 

Elena thought it broke Héctor 's heart a little bit, when his Coco finally forgot him. She found him in the offrenda room, family portrait in his hands, slumped against the far wall. The stack of letters for Imelda was now teetering, no matter what Elena did to keep them in neat and orderly piles. Elena was going to have to get some kind of massive box for them, or maybe a wheelbarrow for easy transport, she thought absently.

 

Héctor got up quickly, putting the family photo back, and wiping at his eyes fiercely when Elena approached.

 

“We knew this would happen Héctor.” Elena said gently. “Consuelo says it won't be long now. We must prepare ourselves.”

 

“I thought – she seemed like she was getting better, with me around, and...” He said softly.

 

“She's not going to get better Héctor. She just has good days and bad days.” Elena explained softly, pulling that huge giraffe man into a hug.  He towered over her like a skyscraper, but he bent over to hug her properly. Elena felt his lanky arms come around her shoulders as he leaned on her for support.

 

Elena thought of what an empty shell of herself Mama Coco had seemed not long ago. She thought of how jubilant and joyful her mother had been these last couple of months with Héctor around. Elena thought of her Mama’s laugh at being called the best wrestler in all of Mexico, her mischievous, delighted grin during an annoying succession whatsapp calls, her soft, peaceful smile as she floated in a turquoise ocean.  

 

Elena gave Héctor a squeeze, then held him at arms’ length, so she could look him in the face. “You gave her so many good days, Héctor. You made her very happy… at the end.”

 

-0-

 

Coco died two weeks after Victoria had returned to the land of the dead.

 

“Goodbye, my Coco. Tell your mama I love her, when you see her.” Héctor said, as he kissed her forehead, before sitting down next to her and holding her hand for the last time in this life.  

 

Coco Rivera was comfortable in her bed. She had her loving family all about her. The sunlight streamed softly into her room as her father sang her a song. She closed her eyes, settling into sleep, with a soft gentle smile on her face.

-0-

_Autumn, 2019._

-0-

 

 

 

Héctor sat next to Coco's graveside, tending all the flowers he'd planted. He knew the family and the love and the joy that was waiting for Coco on the other side – but he would have never been ready to bury his daughter. He just wanted to be with Coco – but he was stuck on the wrong side of the damn flower bridge _again!_

 

_Dumb flower bridge!_

 

He went back to the flowers. He'd planted them all around his girls, Imelda and Coco.  He just wanted them to be surrounded by beauty.  They had been buried next to each other. Idly he wondered where his own body was.  He was probably buried in an unmarked shallow grave somewhere.

 

Maybe that was it?  He could find his own body and get it moved back here. He could lie next to them.  Maybe lying next to his family, like he was always meant to, would make him _puff_ back.

 

Héctor knew he was grasping at straws, but he was getting desperate. He didn't know what to do any more. Héctor felt like he had tried everything now, and still no puff. Stupid, foolish ideas were beginning to appeal more and more. Victoria had said it wasn't about getting what you want, but she'd puffed back before she could say what he really had to do.  Héctor found this exceptionally inconvenient.

 

He should go. He knew the family thought he was spending too much time by the graveside, and they were getting worried. But he couldn't help it. He just wanted to be close to his girls. Soon Miguel would get home from school. Héctor wouldn't leave Miguel waiting. He'd promised Miguel they would start doing guitar practise again today. 

 

Héctor moved to stand up, when suddenly he was grabbed roughly from behind by strong arms. A cloth with something cloying and sweetly dangerous was clamped over his mouth and nose. Héctor struggled as he was dragged backwards. He fought as much as he could, but his vision was darkening around the edges. Then the world faded away.

 

-0-

 

“I'm telling you _something's wrong._ Héctor wouldn't leave me waiting.” Miguel said impatiently, when Héctor was half an hour late to play guitar with him.

 

Héctor didn't feel like doing anything lately except tend the graves of his daughter and wife. Miguel had cajoled and pleaded and wheedled at Héctor to start playing the guitar with him again. Héctor had agreed. He'd never deny Miguel anything, but Elena thought it was too soon. Couldn't that fool boy see that Héctor was still grieving? Elena had taken Miguel aside and told him to leave Héctor alone about this.

 

“Héctor said that whenever the world got him down, he would play his guitar.” Miguel had said. That quote was one of many things that had been wrongly attributed to Ernesto De La Cruz. _Seize your moment_ seemed to be the one of the only authentic things about the butt-chinned ham.  “I just want to cheer him up.” Miguel had insisted.

 

“Miguelito – the man buried his daughter. I think this is one heartbreak not even a guitar can fix.” Elena had said gently. “Just give him time.”

 

Now Héctor was late to their first session. Elena could have made a comment about how fool musicians are typically as reliable as a box of dysfunctional street cats. But she didn't.  It wouldn't have been true. “Don't worry Migueltio. He'll be home soon.” She said, trying to reassure Miguel.

 

Just at the moment, the phone rang. It sounded unnaturally loud in the kitchen. Elena knew she couldn't have possibly felt nervous to answer it. At that moment, she didn't know there was anything to be nervous about. Still, she felt an odd sense of foreboding as she reached for the receiver.

 

 “Senora Rivera, this is Officer Peralta from the Mexico City Police Department. Is Héctor Rivera there?  It is very important that I speak with him.”   Officer Peralta spoke with a hurried, urgent tone.

 

“No. Not at the moment. What do you want with my Héctor ?”

 

“We have reason to believe he is in danger...”

 

-0-

 

Héctor felt stiff, and sore and bruised as he blearily woke up. He could hear the sound of _Morning Coffee._ Elena's song. Elena was calling him. Héctor drowsily tried to reach toward the sound to answer it, before realising abruptly that his wrists had been duct-taped to the armrests of a chair. His ankles had been taped to the chair legs.

 

That woke him up quickly.

 

Héctor lifted his head up with a start, looking around confused and panicked. He could hear someone moving around. He was in some kind of industrial building that looked like had been occupied by especially entitled and insane magpies. There was a lot of random, shiny stuff around him. Expensive stuff.  His eyes fell on a slightly damaged Ernesto De La Cruz shrine.  

 

Ah.

 

That made sense.

 

Butt-chin would find a way to ruin everything from beyond the grave. One of his crazed fans had kidnapped Héctor .

 

This was bad.

 

This person would probably be a psychopath. Now, he had taken Héctor to a secondary location. Six-Fingered Pedro had _warned_ Héctor about secondary locations! Héctor was going to end up in shallow grave again... and he couldn't even die!

 

Héctor started to struggle against the duct tape. He was as quiet as he could be, but the sound of his wriggling seemed to alert the psychopath. Footsteps came closer.

 

“Ah, my old friend, you are awake at last!” Ernesto De La Cruz emerged from the shadows.

 

This was really, really, really bad!

 

-0-

 

“So have any of you noticed something unusual these last few days? Anything at all?” Officer Peralta asked the family.

 

They had been gathered in one of the interview rooms in the Santa Cecilia Police Department.  A small team from Mexico City had been racing down, tracking a criminal. They had been in Oaxaca City when Officer Peralta had called. He had requested the whole family go to the local station for _their own safety._

 

“No. Why do you ask?”  Elena glanced over desk at Officer Peralta.  Her eyes fell on an evidence photo of what looked like a sociopath's pinterest vision board.  Across the side of the vision board, in large, sloppy handwriting was written  _Héctor 's stupid, annoying family._ She noticed pictures of her family going about their daily business. She felt a wave of anger. Someone had been following them?

 

“What is all this really about?  You haven't all raced down here from Mexico City for nothing. Where is our Héctor ?” Elena demanded, hands on her hips, feeling her fury rising. Officer Peralta shrank back a little when he saw her expression.  “Miguel – try calling him again.”  Elena commanded, as she pointed at her grandson. “And you – time for answers.”

 

Officer Peralta gulped. “We really aren't at liberty to discuss it. It's an ongoing investigation.”  He stepped towards the door. “Now, if you'll all wait h...”

 

Abel got up, and slammed the door closed with his football player's speed and reflexes, blocking officer Peralta's exit.

 

“The _it_ you are talking about is our Papa Héctor.”  Abel said, crossing his arms and standing in front of the door, an immoveable object. “You're not leaving until we get some answers.” The family gathered around him in support. Elena took off her shoe and waggled it menancingly.

 

Officer Peralta weighed his options.

 

“Ernesto De La Cruz has been re-animated for some time. He has been on a crime spree in Mexico City,” he started to explain rapidly.   "We found his hide-out, but he had already fled.  Evidence suggests that he has become obsessed with Héctor and his family- " Peralta gestured vaguely in their general direction, "- We have been following his trail here. The fact that Héctor is now missing is...” 

 

 

-0-

 

Ernesto was fiddling with a camera on a tripod, clicking buttons manically and swearing under his breath. Héctor tried wiggling free while he was distracted.

 

“Stop struggling Héctor. That will only make it worse.” Ernesto said, turning away from the camera now that it was set up on the tripod.

 

“Worse!  How can it be worse! Are you going to try and kill me again?"

 

Ernesto ignored him.

 

"You know we can't die, don't you? Idiot.”  Héctor said, continuing to struggle. Then he heard a metallic, ominous clicking sound. He knew that sound from those action movies Abel liked. A modern gun.

 

How had Ernesto gotten that?

 

“Yeah – but I imagine being shot in the head will still hurt like a bitch.”  Ernesto pointed the gun at his temple.  Héctor leaned backwards in alarm, his eyes going wide.

 

“Héctor _relax,_ I'm not going to use this on you.” Suddenly Ernesto seemed all ease and friendliness. If he didn't have Héctor all tied up, it would have seemed like he was about to invite him out for a drink. What the hell?

 

Héctor looked at him, extremely confused.

 

Suddenly Ernesto's expression rapidly changed. It became dark and angry – all the friendliness dropped away.  “No. I won't shoot you.  If you don't cooperate, I'll just shoot your precious family members instead.  Pew pew pew.”  He started miming shooting around the industrial building. 

 

Héctor 's heart stopped in horror.  "I'll cooperate! I'll cooperate!"

 

"Good." Ernesto turned to something on the table. He seemed to be writing.

 

 _Morning Coffee_ rang out loudly, breaking the silence. It was quickly followed by _Driving to the City._ Then _Tropical Fish_ three times in a row. His family were calling for him. They had been since he woke up.

 

"What is that noise?  Why won’t it stop!”

 

“It’s nothing Ernesto. I don’t hear anything.”

 

“Is that your phone?"

 

"No?"

 

“It is your phone! I know your lying face Héctor. Honestly – who is always calling you!” Ernesto demanded, as he walked over, and pulled the phone out of Héctor 's pocket. Héctor recoiled from him as much as the chair would allow. 

 

Héctor 's family were looking for him. He was in a terrible, horrible, ridiculous situation. But _for once,_ his family was looking for him. They knew he was missing. It was a stupid thing to be happy about, but Héctor would take any silver lining at this stage. 

 

Ernesto threw the phone on the ground and started stomping on it, smashing it into little pieces.

 

So much for the silver lining.

 

-0-

 

“We checked out the Rivera graves. There were clear signs of a struggle. We found an empty bottle of chloroform on the ground nearby too.”

 

Peralta made a face.

 

“What is that face for? This is a lead.” Diaz said flatly.

 

“It's just _so sloppy._ He's not even trying to hide his criminal activities now.  _And he's littering!_ It's so bad for the environment. I mean, I would like him to at least put the chloroform in the bin so we have to search a little for it. Just a little bit of criminal pride  - is that too much to ask?”

 

“If he's this sloppy it means we'll be able to catch him easily.”

 

“No, it means Ernesto's getting desperate. Desperate people are unpredictable.”

 

“I'll say!”  Santiago said, doing something at the computer. “Ernesto De La Cruz has started live-streaming his kidnapping.  I certainly didn't predict he'd do that.”

 

The screen flashed. There wasn't a picture, but they could hear the voices clear as a bell.  There was the sound of many fingers squeaking against glass from behind him. Peralta glanced at the worried faces of the family smushed up against the window of the interview room. The Riveras hadn't even bothered to hide their eavesdropping.

_“Stop struggling Héctor . That will only make it worse.”_

_“Worse!  How can it be worse?! Are you going to try and kill me again? You know we can't die, don't you? Idiot.”_

_“Yeah – but I imagine being shot in the head will still hurt like a bitch.”_

There was the sound of many people collectively inhaling very dramatically from the interview room.  The older lady started shouting "Where are they?! Tell me where they are and I will beat that butt-chinned ham senseless with these shoes, I swear to god."

 

"Can we get a location from this?"

 

"Yes, but it will take time."

 

-0-

 

 

“Try turning it off and on again.”

 

“I already TRIED that Héctor!”

 

"Maybe try pressing every button until something happens?"

 

"I'm already doing that and nothing is HAPPENING!"

 

“I think you need to press the red button again, then. Have you tried that?”  Héctor suggested, trying to be helpful.

 

“I ALREADY PRESSED THE RED BUTTON!” 

 

Ernesto had a little tantrum when the camera didn't seem to be working for him. He had yelled that he may as well shoot Héctor in the head now if the camera wasn't going to work.  Héctor wanted to avoid being shot in the head. He didn't think it would kill him, but he didn't want to test that theory out either.

 

“Okay. No need to shout... Where did you get it? Maybe there is an instruction manual in the box.” Héctor offered, trying to keep his voice calm.  There was something really off about Ernesto right now.

 

“A fan's place.”

 

“A fan gave it to you as a present?”

 

“No, idiot. I stole it.” Ernesto huffed. 

 

“You're stealing from your fans?”

 

“Hey! They owe me!” Ernesto crossed his arms defensively, like a petulant child. “They left me things every year, and last year – _nothing!_ So I'm just taking what I was owed.”

 

There should be a word for disgusted and disappointed but not really surprised. Ernesto stolen Héctor 's songs, guitar and his life – of course he'd thinking nothing of thieving from his fans.  He didn't even seem to see it as stealing. He felt entitled to their things.  Héctor looked around at the odd collection of stuff. Ernesto had very expensive taste.

 

“Is all this stuff stolen?”

 

“Yeah, pretty much.”

 

Ernesto walked over to a table. He poured out some powder from a little plastic bag in his pocket and arranged in into a line before snorting loudly. The powder went up his nose.  Ernesto belted out a loud grito. Héctor made a very disapproving face at him.

 

“ _Yes,_ Mother Superior, the drugs are stolen too. Stop making that judgemental face at me, Héctor .”  Ernesto said, sighing like he had been nagged endlessly by Héctor to stop stealing drugs, even though Héctor hadn't even said anything.

 

“How much have you taken?” 

 

“So much!”  Ernesto declared proudly.

 

“Have you taken all the drugs?” Héctor said, feeling very apprehensive. His situation just got worse and worse. 

 

“Why? Would you like some? I think I have some gigglepig left.” Ernesto offered, once again all ease and charm.

 

“No, thank you, Amigo. I'm good.” Héctor refused politely.

 

“Suit yourself – more for me then.” Ernesto shrugged and then turned to fiddle with the camera again.

 

“ _Dios mío!_ This is bad. You've taken a lot of drugs. You are a desperate man with a gun and a short fuse. You know where my family live. You've got me all tied up and you want me to do something for you and it involves a video camera... and your video camera is not working for you.” Héctor said in dismay, thinking out loud.

 

He had been working through just how dire this situation was. He normally tried to stay optimistic, but even Héctor could admit this was getting a little sticky.

 

“Actually, it is working now!” Ernesto said happily, as he turned around. “I think it was working the whole time, Amigo. I just didn't take this off.”  Ernesto held up the lens cap and threw it over his shoulder nonchalantly.  “But now we have a picture.” He walked over to Héctor and pulled up a chair next to him. 

 

“I love these! Look, if I move this, it even has selfie mode – see.” Ernesto held the camera in front of them and folded a little screen out to the side. Ernesto put his face right next to Héctor 's so they were displayed on the same screen.

 

“That's us. There we are on this screen together.” Ernesto said smiling jubilantly, pointing at the little screen, taking no notice of Héctor 's steady stream of indignant faces as he squirmed to get away from Ernesto.

 

“Isn't my camera nice?” Ernesto asked, turning to face Héctor, his tone abruptly changing. A darker, creepier edge to his voice had emerged.

 

“Oh, it's a very good camera. I'm happy for you.  Your stolen camera is _very nice.”_   Héctor  said placatingly. He was beginning to realise that he was on some kind of maniacal, psychotic see-saw with Ernesto and his moods. 

 

As soon as Héctor approved of the camera, Ernesto had smiled widely. “Héctor, you and I are going to make a little movie with this camera.” Ernesto said with a definite leer.

 

Héctor didn't bother to hide his revulsion. Pedro had told him about _those_ movies that psychos like to make. He mimed gagging, then turned to Ernesto.  “ _Gross._ I'd really prefer if you shoot me in the head, if it's all the same to you, Amigo.”

 

“Not that kind of movie! Sweet Jesus, don't be a pervert.” Ernesto blushed and slapped  Héctor  roughly upside the head before standing back up. He held the camera above them, and declared “No, this is going to be my greatest film!” into the lens.

 

Héctor rolled his eyes extravagantly. What a butt-chinned ham!

 

Ernesto placed the camera on the tripod, then he came and sat back down next to Héctor. “It's funny. Film cameras used to be so enormous. They were bigger than horses – and now I can fit one into my hand.” Ernesto said conversationally, moving his hands to indicate the different sizes.

 

Damnit, friendly Ernesto was back. Friendly Ernesto creeped Héctor out the most, but he knew that being friendly back would help him buy more time to wiggle out of this ridiculousness.

 

 “I love technology.  Have you seen an Ipad? They are amazing.” Ernesto was saying animatedly.

 

“I know, right. But have you been able to play with a blue-tooth speaker and spotify?” They were Héctor 's favourite inventions aside from the Dyson Airfan. Héctor could talk for a long time about spotify.

 

“ Oh spotify – I love spotify!” Ernesto said, taking the bait. Even if he'd been a hack and a fraud, he'd been a music lover too, once upon a time.

 

Héctor started talking about his own thoughts on how interesting the changes in music were, but Ernesto cut him off and spoke over the top of him.  “I discovered a whole new group of women playing guitars and singing soulfully about their problems. Do you know Alanis Morrissette?” 

 

“Of course. I know everyone.”  Héctor replied, very sarcastically. He was a little pissed off at having been interrupted. He was going to buy himself time and talk at length about music. But no, Ernesto wanted to talk about this Alanis Morrissette. Héctor knew nothing about Alanis Morrissette.

 

“Well, the first song I heard, she wants this gentleman. He used to be with her and now he is sleeping with this woman... and he is just going to abandon Alanis for his new family, because he thinks she'll manage. She is angry about that. It goes like this.... _dum dum dum dum Da Dum”_ Ernesto sang.

 

Héctor had never heard any Alanis Morrisette, so he couldn't say if this was an accurate rendition. He gave the performance a great deal of side-eye.

 

“And there is this other song that  is about washing your hands clean of a crime and it goes like this. _.. da da da dadum da da..”_

 

“You liked that one the best, I think, Amigo.” Héctor cut in, raising his eyebrows. 

 

“No!” Ernesto made a fist and slammed it on his knee. “My favourite is the _ironic_ song!” He insisted. “That song goes... _mmmhmmhmhm da da dum, ..isn't it ironic? Don't you think?...”_

Héctor had been doing his best to wiggle out of the duct-tape.  His wrists were going to be horribly bruised, but he'd loosened it somewhat.  He'd nodded along to Ernesto's singing. An appreciative audience always distracted Ernesto.

 

“Do you like Alanis Morrissette?” Ernesto asked suddenly, stopping mid-song, with a rather deranged yet imperative look on his face.

 

Héctor knew the safe answer was yes. 

 

“What's your favourite song?” Ernesto asked in a low, menacing voice. Like he was testing Héctor .

 

Damnit – Héctor didn't know any Alanis Morrisette songs.

 

“Err, they're all good...but I like the ironic one too.” He guessed.  Hopefully saying Ernesto's favourite would bring back friendly Ernesto.  Psycho Ernesto was actually more frightening. 

 

“All her songs are so good.” Ernesto said, leaning back in the chair next to Héctor , sounding satisfied.  “Perhaps I could kill her for her songs too?” He said after a pause, shooting Héctor a huge grin and giving him a clap around the shoulders, like they were just messing around and joking together about that _one  crazy time_ when Ernesto had murdered him.

_What's a little murder between friends, eh?_

Héctor looked straight at the camera like he was on that office television show that Gloria liked.

 

“It's a joke Héctor. You should laugh.” Ernesto said, and he was fondling the gun again. His voice was low and menacing. He stared at Héctor in a very unsettling and creepy fashion. Héctor laughed exceptionally nervously.  It sounded very high pitched and very fake. But Ernesto was pleased.  He patted Héctor 's hand again, and finally noticed the tape.

 

"Oh, this has come loose? You haven't been trying to distract me and escape, have you Amigo?" Enresto asked conversationally. "Here, let me fix that for you." Ernesto said kindly, like he thought he was doing Héctor a favour. Ernesto got up to get more duct-tape. Héctor sighed dramatically as Ernesto taped his wrists back down. 

 

“Okay. No more trying to escape Héctor. It will make me angry if you do that again." Ernesto said warningly. "It's confession time.  I'll hold up some signs, you'll read them out...” Ernesto pointed towards some cardboard signs in the corner.

 

“Then you'll let me go?” Héctor asked optimistically.

 

“Sure – let's call it that.” Ernesto said with a dismissive shrug.  

 

“You promise you'll leave my family alone if I do this?” Héctor said seriously.

 

“I promise.”

 

“You'll need to swear on something that matters to most to you, something you care about.” Héctor was going to take Ernesto's promise with a grain of salt. Whatever he said would be a lie – but Héctor needed him to keep lying and keep talking. He needed more time for his sweat to sufficiently moisten the new duct-tape so he could escape again.

 

“I swear on the good name of Ernesto De La Cruz. I swear on my statue and large mausoleum in town, on all my movies and my greatest hits album.”

 

“That's what matters most to you?” Héctor wrinkled his nose up in surprise.

 

“What's wrong with that?” Ernesto sounded defensive.

 

“It's just your tone is _bragging_ , but your words are _sad.”_ Héctor knew there was a slight scold in his voice, but he couldn't help it. “Didn't you care about anything other than your reputation? How about something living, or something that could love you back?”

 

“Fine,” Ernesto huffed, “I swear on my three chihuahuas, Héctor 1, Héctor 2, and Héctor 3.”

 

Héctor made an extremely unimpressed face. “You named your dogs after me?”

 

“It was my way of thanking you for my success.”

 

“Oh, how _generous!_ ”

 

“Let's not get into this again, Amigo.” Ernesto said impatiently, as he picked up his signs. “I'm going to stand over there and hold up these....”

 

“Wait, wait, wait. I can’t see the writing without my glasses.” Héctor informed him.  

 

“You need glasses?”  Now it was Ernesto's turn to look surprised.

 

“Yeah – apparently I'm long-sighted.” Héctor explained.

 

Ernesto looked at him curiously for a long moment. “I can't imagine you with glasses.”  He said sounding quite preoccupied.  He was staring at Héctor 's face intensely. Héctor stuck out his tongue at Ernesto to break the creepy moment. Anything was better than being stared at like that.

 

Ernesto shook himself, then took a step forward and held up the sign. “Can you see now?”

 

“No.”

 

Another step. “How about now?”

 

“No yet.”

 

Another step. “How about now?”

 

“Still no.”

 

“Well, I can't come any closer. I'll be in the frame then. Damn, Héctor . Your eyesight is crap!” Ernesto grumbled, pointing to the camera. 

 

“Even with crappy eyesight, I can still see your butt-chin. Honestly, I think the cleft getting bigger Amigo.” Héctor had said it just to be mean. It worked. Ernesto's jaw dropped, and he huffed out a very offended noise.

 

Suddenly a huge smile broke over Ernesto's face.  He came and sat next to Héctor again. He spoke in a voice that bubbled up like Ernesto thought he was about to tell the most hilarious joke ever. “This explains why you went with Imelda. I bet not being able to see her ugly face really helped when it came to marrying the bitch.”

 

Héctor knew it wasn't wise. It wouldn't help his situation. It would make everything a thousand times worse. But he felt a wave of rage rush through him. He was so monumentally pissed off he couldn't think straight. He slammed his own head forward into Ernesto's with all his strength. Their foreheads collided with a reverberating smash. 

 

CRACK echoed in the empty industrial building.

 

There was a great deal of swearing from the both of them. Héctor was so glad there weren't any children present to hear him throwing every foul phrase he knew at Ernesto (and he knew plenty! He'd spent the better part of the last ninety years in shanty-town after all.)  His head hurt so much. His vision was swimming before him. But it was so worth it. Ernesto fell back off the chair in surprise and landed on his arse. He lay in a heap for a few moments, breathing hard. 

 

“You goddamn son-of-a-whore! What did you do that for?” Ernesto whined, holding his head in his hands, as he moved to sit up.

 

“Don't you dare talk about Imelda that way.” Héctor spat, breathing hard, still infuriated. 

 

Ernesto actually seemed a little unnerved, even though there wasn't really much more Héctor could do to him, tied up in the chair the way he was. Ernesto stood up, dusted himself off and took a step backwards.

 

“Okay. Let’s start again. Remember, Héctor I know where your family lives, and I am a desperate man with a gun, and nothing else to lose.”

 

That pulled Héctor up short. He felt frantic every time Ernesto mentioned his family. He looked around alarmed, trying to think of what to say to calm Ernesto down again.  He tried to put on a friendly veneer, but that was hard to do after crazily headbutting someone. 

 

“Let's not be hasty, Amigo. Surely that's not true.  You must have something....” Héctor trailed off, trying to think what else Ernesto had in his life aside from three dogs he had (rather inexplicably) named after the friend he had murdered.

 

“Without restoring my name, I've got _nothing_ to live for.” Ernesto said sadly.   “I had everything! I was _worshipped._ Everyone loved me!” He declared dramatically, suddenly posing in front of the camera. His face fell. “Then _that boy_...and _you,_ and suddenly it's all over for me.  I only tried to murder _one_ twelve year old _one_ time -"

 

"Two times!" Héctor interjected.

 

"  - and suddenly everyone hates me! Your Miguel didn't even die! It shouldn't be a big deal! But everyone treated me like I was a monster. Then a giant bell dropped on me, _again_!” He knelt down, clearly posing for the camera again and declared melodramatically  “For whom the bell tolls – it tolls for me!”

 

He was really hamming it up for the camera?  Héctor tilted his head, really flummoxed by this.   What in the fresh hell was this? Just who was this performance for?

 

"Ernesto - Don't take this the wrong way, but I think there is something _really wrong_ with you."

 

“I'm trying to be poetic. That was a literary reference.  You should clap. It's polite.” Ernesto turned from the camera to stage whisper at Héctor.

 

“I can't – you tied my hands to this chair.”  Héctor sassed dryly.

 

“You _should_ clap.”  The creepy, demanding voice was back. Héctor shrugged then banged his hands on the armrests in a mockery of applause. Ernesto's expression just melted. All the menace fell away.

 

“You were always so encouraging. I've really missed you, Héctor .” Ernesto got up and strode back to Héctor, sitting in the chair next to him again. Héctor started at him, flabbergasted. He couldn't keep up with Ernesto's crazy mood swings. He was getting mood whiplash.

 

“You were _my only family_. You were the only family I ever had!” Ernesto declared, sounding melancholy. “Remember the orphanage Héctor ?  Remember when we first left? It was just the two of us.” His voice was oddly wistful. 

 

“I remember.”

 

“That was better _wasn't it?_ When it was just the two of us and the world?  I thought that was better. The world was our family.”  Ernesto put an arm around Héctor’s shoulder, and leaned on him heavily. He seemed sombre now.  “The world is my family,” Ernesto hummed a few bars of the old song. “You wrote that song for me.”

 

“Yes. I did.”

 

“I _like_ that song. It was always my favourite...” Ernesto said softly, and he looked away from Héctor pensively into the middle distance. He almost seemed sad. The silence dragged on. Héctor didn't know what to say. This conversation was going to a weird place.

 

“But sometimes a man has to _seize his moment,_ you understand.” Ernesto turned back to Héctor and mimed strangling him, while Héctor tried to wriggle away from his grasping hands.

 

Ah, now they were back on familiar territory at least. 

 

-0-

 

Elena hadn't had much to do with police departments until today. She’d always been mostly law-abiding (beating mariachis with sandals notwithstanding). Today she'd spent the better part of her day in a police interview room, drank their terrible coffee and wished the detectives would hurry up.  The whole Rivera family were already beside themselves with worry over Héctor, and now they were becoming incredibly and dramatically loud about how worried they were as they watched the live-stream.

The whole police department were watching. It certainly was an enthralling spectacle.  Several officers cheered loudly when Héctor  head-butted Ernesto. Berto and Gloria tried to cover the twins ears against the torrent of swearing that followed.  Enrique tried to do the same for Miguel, but Miguel's jaw had already dropped open in awe at the sea of profanity that had just washed over him. 

 _So much for Héctor trying so hard to never swear in front of the children,_ Elena thought to herself. Still, he wasn't saying anything that Ernesto didn't deserve. She couldn't help but feel an odd pride at seeing Hector stand up for them, and give Ernesto such a savage verbal spray.  Then all amusement rapidly left the situation.  There was a huge gasp, as they all heard that butt-chinned arsehole speak openly about trying to murder her Miguel -  twice!

Miguel had never really told them about that part of his adventure in the Land of the Dead.  His hand gripped his arm nervously as he tried to explain what had happened that night.  Luisa practically collapsed right in the police department evidence room. Enrique had been beside himself and had held Miguel and his wife and his baby girl so tightly that Elena didn't think he was ever going to let them go.

Elena felt such a strong fury in her heart. She wished she had another eight pairs of shoes with her, so she could beat Ernesto De La Cruz with all of them.

He’d taken their Héctor, hurt her Miguel and threatened her family.

He needed to _pay._   

Suddenly, there was a great flurry of movement. The police had been doing their policing and had pinpointed the location. Everyone piled into the cars, sirens blaring. Abel was still watching the live-stream on his phone and updating them. Suddenly, he'd started chuckling openly in the car. Elena had given him an exceptionally strange look.

"Sorry Abuelita, it's just Héctor - he cracks me up! He's so funny." Abel explained apologetically. Elena had whacked him upside the head. There was nothing funny about this situation.

 

It wasn’t time for chuckling.

 

It was time for butt-chin kicking!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> This chapter was so huge that I have decided to split it into two parts. This is part 1 of Ernesto is back shenanigans. I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> The police officers and detectives are all named after Brooklyn 99 characters, because b99 is the very best and I love throwing it some love and some shout-outs. The premise of Ernesto taking Hector so they can make a video to clear his name is actually inspired by a B99 episode. And I thought...hmmm, interesting idea. You see, the only thing that matters to Ernesto is his reputation - and my god will he have a new reputation after the live-stream has aired. He's trying so hard to cast himself as the good guy and wronged party, but irony is such a bitch!
> 
> I wanted Ernesto De La Cruz to become enamoured of some really girly, wonderfully cheesy 90s - to modern era pop music. I picked Alanis, because she was one of my favs as a teenager and her songs fit a little better with what I wanted to achieved. I toyed round with heaps of artists in my ideas. The other big contender for Ernesto's favourite was Taylor Swift (think about Ernesto really identifying with Bad Blood, and Look What You Made Me Do, and every song where she sings about some guy cheating on her. Lets face it, Ernesto is so possessive of Hector that he does see Hector choosing Imelda and Coco over him as a betrayal.)
> 
> Part 2 of Ernesto and Hector;s confrontation will be up soon. Til then...


	12. Take a look what you've done. Baby, now we got bad blood....

-0-

 

 

“I _had to_ kill you, you see. You were going to _leave_ me. You had a whole new family.  You were going to choose your _wife_ and _baby girl_ over me. You brought it on yourself. So really, all this is your fault.” Ernesto explained, like all of that made perfectly logical sense to him. 

 

“My fault?” Héctor yelped indignantly.

 

“ _You've ruined my life!”_  Ernesto yelled at him. “You have everything now. You've got youth and fame and people love you – and you are throwing it away! You won’t even tour or do shows – you're just content to stay in Santa Cecilia with your little family and squander your talent. I would _kill_ for your talent.”

 

“You did. You did kill me for my talent Ernesto.” Héctor flatly reminded him. 

 

“Do you know what I did with your songs? They catapulted me into fame and riches. You would have taken those songs back to little Imelda and _wasted your life_ making shoes with her if it wasn't for me.” Ernesto said defensively.  

 

“I would have liked that.” Héctor said darkly.

 

"You were an artist, Héctor . You shouldn't have belonged just to one family. You had talent and you never appreciated it." Ernesto spat, his jealously shining out of his eyes.

 

"You didn't need to kill me just because you were envious of my talent, you know! It wasn't my fault you were a talentless butt-chinned ham!"

 

“I had my own talent!" Ernesto said defensively. "I'm a very good actor, you know. I used to be in movies Héctor! I was a great movie star. Did you know I made movies about all of our adventures?”

 

“I know you made a movie about poisoning me, played the victim, and then didn't even have the decency to die.” Héctor said acidly.

 

“Everyone loved me in life-” Ernesto ignored Héctor ’s comment. “- and in death, did you see my house!? Did you see it Héctor?  I had a whole ballroom just full of guitars from offrendas. Then you _ruined_ that.” Ernesto grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a few times. “I'm in prison on the otherside – prison! A man like me was never meant to be caged! I have a poet's soul!

 

"A poet's soul? _Really?_ "  Héctor made an exceptionally sceptical face. 

 

“And when I come back here, my name is mud! _You told everyone about my butt-chin!_ Why did you tell everyone about my butt-chin? How could you? You know I'm sensitive about it.”  Ernesto said, sounding betrayed and saddened.

 

“Well, I was very angry at you for murdering me when I said that.”  

 

Now Ernesto was standing in front of the camera and posing melodramatically and complaining about his predicament. “I had to hide my identity when I returned. I had to skulk in the shadows and steal from fans to get by! I was wanted for police _'questioning._ ' They wanted to ask me questions about _'murder'_ and _'fraud'_!  Now they want me for _'theft'_!”

 

“In fairness Ernesto, you did kill me and you stole my songs and my guitar and pretended they were your own.” Héctor flatly reminded him.

 

"Jeez Héctor , that was _one time!_ Stop bringing it up!"  Ernesto huffed defensively.

 

"Two times. You threw me in a cenote to make me disappear faster. Remember?"

 

"That doesn't count! You were already dead."

 

 "You have also stolen all this stuff,” Héctor pointed out churlishly, while glancing around at all the pilfered goods. "Why did you even steal _those?"_ Héctor said, very judgementally as he nodded at a hideous looking set of Ernesto De La Cruz nesting dolls.  They were creepy.  "Did you just steal everything that wasn't nailed down?"

 

“I stole hearts as well.”   Ernesto said, winking at him.

 

“Are you trying to be poetic again?”

 

Ernesto nodded. “Was it good?” he asked anxiously, like he was looking for Héctor 's approval.

 

“It was.”  Héctor could throw Ernesto a bone, if it would keep him on a more even keel.

 

“Thank you Héctor.” Ernesto said sadly, then covered his face in his hands.

 

“Ernesto?”

 

“Sorry Amigo. It's the drugs. It makes me a little crazy and it makes my moods do this” Ernesto waved his hands around in a wibbly-wobbly fashion. 

 

Ernesto came over and sat next to Héctor again. Héctor hated it when Ernesto did this, and he recoiled from him as much as physically possible while still tied to a chair. Ernesto ignored this and put his arm around Héctor 's shoulder, pulling him close.

 

“Do you want to know the saddest part about this whole thing?  I couldn't even find work as an Ernesto De La Cruz impersonator because there was _no demand for me_! No demand for me – Ernesto De La Cruz!” Ernesto cried.

 

_That_ was the saddest bit for him?

 

On second thoughts, it was typical.

 

“That is _rough,_ Amigo. It is a _cruel world.”_ Héctor said very sarcastically, but Ernesto thought he was serious. He started crying into Héctor 's shoulder, just like he used to when he got drunk and worried about his butt-chin. _Why me?_ Héctor thought as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Héctor was getting Ernesto snot and tears on one of his favourite shirts. _Gross._

 

But Héctor could use this to his advantage.  While Ernesto was like this, all sad and crying, there was more chance he'd tell the truth. He'd always been an over-sharer when drunk, and evidently high on drugs was no different. 

 

“Can I ask a question?” Héctor asked softly, trying to sound friendly.

 

Ernesto nodded.

 

 “What did you do with my body?”

 

“Do you really have to keep bringing it up?" That question pulled Ernesto up short.  He stopped crying into Héctor 's shoulder and moved away slightly. He seemed discomfited, as if he didn't like the way Héctor kept reminding him of his crime.  "Why do you want to know?”

 

“Call it morbid curiosity.”

 

Ernesto looked despondently at the camera then back at Héctor ’s face. He was silence for a long moment. Héctor had no idea what he was thinking. Something psychotic most likely.  Héctor wasn't going to mistake that expression for regret or sorrow.  Ernesto was a good actor after all.

 

“I buried you in a ditch near the railway.” Ernesto whispered, sounding a little ashamed. “I went there, you know. When I came back... I went there.” Ernesto said softly, like it was a confession.  “Now it's paved over. It's a back alley with a tittybar called _Tequila Mockingbird_ that caters to the perverted tourist clientele, in the dodgy part of Mexico city. You're either under the street in front of _Tequila Mockingbird_ or you might actually be under the tittybar itself.”

 

Héctor ’s jaw dropped in dismay. "What am I doing under a tittybar called _Tequila Mockingbird_ ?”

 

“The city got so built up, you know.” Ernesto said with a shrug. “I didn't plan on burying you under a tittybar.”  he added somewhat apologetically.

 

“I'm a family man! I shouldn't be anywhere near a tittybar!"

 

“Sad to say Amigo – but _Tequila Mockingbird_ is full of 'family men' nowadays.”  Ernesto said sagely, evidentially speaking from experience. He'd probably been into _Tequila Mockingbird._

 

Holy hell, Ernesto probably had a tequila literally over Héctor 's dead body _!_

 

Héctor took a moment to show how horrified he was at this revelation. He expressed his displeasure at being buried under a whorehouse most petulantly. Anything would have been better than under an establishment if ill-repute where lecherous arseholes leered at poor girls, while Ernesto joined them and drank tequila _literally over Héctor ’s dead body._

 

 Héctor made it clear he counted Ernesto as a lecherous arsehole. Ernesto protested.  Héctor  asked Ernesto directly if he had done something _super gross_ over  Héctor ’s dead body. Many months ago, a man named Six-fingered Pedro has said it was very likely that Ernesto had done this _disgusting thing_ over his dead body _._

 

It had been _bothering_ Héctor ever since. 

 

Ernesto got very offended. Héctor continued regardless, saying that at least an unmarked, shallow grave by the roadside while a psychotic pervert masturbated above him would have been more dignified than a titty-bar.

 

 “For the very last time, I _didn’t whip it out and wank off over your dead body_ , you weirdo. _Who does that?_ What the hell is wrong with you Héctor ?  Why would you even think that?” Ernesto looked at Héctor judgementally, like he thought Héctor was the crazy one.

 

“Well, Six-fingered Pedro said that it sounded like you might have been a little bit possessive of me because you harboured secret romantic feelings for me. It would explain why you were jealous of me choosing my family over you. Jealousy is a common motivation for murder, and you probably would have…”

 

“Let’s not talk about this anymore!” Ernesto said suddenly, going redder than a radish. Ernesto shook himself and got up, striding away to the far corner, reaching for signs again. “No more questions! It's confession time.”

 

“Okay, but I still need my glasses.”

 

“Here's an idea. I'll just read these out and you can repeat after me.”

 

“Wont that mess up your film?”

 

“No, I'll just edit me out.” Ernesto said breezily, before his expression changed again. “Oh god, I'm _editing myself out_ – what has the world come to!” he wailed extravagantly. He wandered over to the camera and stood behind it. “Ohh, it's been recording this whole time." Ernesto announced happily.  "Okay. Well, we're good to go,” 

 

"Well, that is _great_ news! I’m so _relieved!"_

 

Ernesto ignored the sarcasm. He shuffled the signs.  “Now, just repeat after me AND say it seriously or -  what's the cute little girl with glasses called?”

 

“Rosa.”

 

“Say it right or I'll shoot Rosa in her cute little face.” Ernesto pulled out his gun again, and mimed shooting, making 'pew, pew, pew' sound effects.  

 

“I've already said I'll do it. Just don't hurt my family.”  Héctor yelled at him, distraught. 

 

"They'll be fine, if you just repeat after me -" Ernesto nodded towards the sign and read it out, “- Say _I, Héctor Rivera, poisoned myself.”_

“I, Héctor Rivera, poisoned myself.”  Héctor repeated in a deadpan tone.

 

_“Just to shame the good name of Ernesto De L Cruz.”_

 

“Just to shame the good name of Ernesto De L Cruz.”  Héctor repeated, then wrinkled up his nose in disdain “- really? That’s what you’re going with?” He asked with a quirk of his eyebrow.

 

“Héctor, you ruined the take! Now we have to do that bit again.” Ernesto scolded like a fussy parent. “You know, whenever I was acting, I used to ask myself _what is my motivation?_ That helped, you know.”

 

_Dios mío_ – now he had to listen to acting tips from the butt-chinned ham?

 

“Well, apparently “my motivation” for poisoning myself was just to ruin things for you!” Héctor said cynically.

 

“You always did ruin things for me, you son-of-a-whore.” Enersto shot back cheekily. 

 

Héctor made a face.

 

“What? After all this time, you still don’t like being called a son-of-a-whore?” Ernesto teased, before his face got serious. “We are both of us from the gutter, Amigo. We know how this works. Don’t make me do this _the hard way._ Say it again properly.”

 

Héctor heard the veiled threat and said his line properly. Ernesto looked gratified and continued, “Now say: _I offered to give him my songs and my guitar – then poisoned myself, so Ernesto is perfectly blameless.”_

 

“I offered to give him my songs and my guitar – then poisoned myself, so Ernesto is perfectly blameless.”

 

Héctor waited a few seconds, so it would be a good take and Ernesto could edit around him. He wouldn't risk Rosa, but the need to be sarcastic was very strong.  “Did you want me to say that I also buried myself under a titty bar called _Tequila Mockingbird_ too?” he sassed, one eyebrow raised very high.

 

“Honestly – it was a railyard ditch when I buried you there!”  Ernesto harrumphed defensively.

 

_“That doesn't make it better!”_ Héctor shouted. He stopped abruptly, staring at a figure that had emerged from behind some crates. His heart lifted.  He saw Six-fingered Pedro had crept out of the shadows, holding a finger to his lips to indicate the need for silence. He was moving silently and sneaking up behind Ernesto.

 

“Stop making such a big deal about it! Sweet baby Jesus Héctor, do you ever stop bitching? I’ve had it up to here with you and your complaining. _Oh you poisoned me. Oh you buried me under a titty bar._ It gives me such a pain in the...”

 

WHACK!

 

Pedro clobbered Ernesto over the head with what looked like a heavy crowbar.  Ernesto made a little 'urgh' noise and dropped to the ground. In the distance Héctor could hear sirens.

 

“Now, _that's_ how you deal with a psycho. You've got to out-psycho them and smack them with something heavy first!" Pedro scolded. "Don't make friendly conversation and sarcastic remarks with them. Damn, you're naïve Héctor !” 

 

-0-

 

They had waited outside a run-down looking industrial building outside of town. The police said the family had to stop shouting and calm down. They needed to let the police do their jobs. The police reminded the family that they weren't allowed to run into the building themselves, however several Riveras were guilty of still attempting this anyway.  The police went in. Héctor had staggered out a few minutes later.

 

-0-

 

Héctor emerged into the daylight, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light.

 

"Héctor!" He heard Miguel shout desperately. Then suddenly Miguel had launched himself at Héctor from somewhere and was hugging him tightly around his middle.  In rapid succession, Miguel was joined by Rosa, Abel, Gloria, Enrique, Luisa, Franco, Berto, Enrique and Elena. The twins squirmed their way around his knees and Luisa was holding Coco up so she could hug Héctor 's face. 

 

For a moment, Héctor felt completely overwhelmed and enveloped by his family.  They were safe. Nothing bad had happened to any of them. That was all that mattered to Héctor. His family was okay. They'd known something was wrong. They'd been worried about him. They'd tried to find him. They were holding him close. It felt like they really loved him. 

 

Héctor felt an unfamiliar feeling, a tingling in his fingertips. He realised his hands were shaking. Maybe they were shaking in relief? Héctor had been so scared. He told himself it hadn't been like last time. He wasn't going to be alone and abandoned for nearly a century again.  Just thinking of his time alone in the land of the dead seemed to stop the shaking, tingling floaty feeling in his fingers. Those thoughts were so solid and heavy.

 

He tried to wrap his arms around all his family, but suddenly Elena broke away from everyone, shouting "You! You will pay for this!"

 

-0-

 

Elena Rivera had looked like a sweet old Grandma when Dectective Diaz had first met her, but it hadn't taken very long before Diaz had realized there was solid steel under that flower patterned dress.

 

At first, the officers had been a bit slow to react - mostly because the spectacle of the little old lady beating the ever-loving crap out of Ernesto De La Cruz and shouting all manner of exceptionally un-grandma-like insults at him had been a little amusing. 

 

Elena Rivera fought _really dirty_ for an old lady. She was a scratcher, a slapper and a dick-puncher. Diaz approved of all three being used against Ernesto De La Cruz at this particular moment. Nice.  

 

Then Elena had taken off her boots and started beating Ernesto De La Cruz around the head with them. She was smacking him with a great deal of alacrity and enthusiasm. They were heavy-soled winter boots. Diaz winced a little at the sound they made colliding with Ernesto’s skull. Those boots could give a concussion...and sadly, it would be dereliction of duty if they didn't stop the little old lady at this point.

 

"I'll confess, just get her off me! Please! I'll confess!" Ernesto started pleading.

 

It still took four officers to pull the old lady off Ernesto De La Cruz.

 

"You cowardly butt-chinned ham! You sack of used toothbrushes! You trashcan full of fiery garbage! I hope you get aneurysm after aneurysm after aneurysm and your brain melts out of your eyeballs!" Elena Rivera was shouting, as the sarge carried her away.

 

She still threw her shoes at Ernesto De La Cruz in one final attempt at hurting him. Ernesto yelped in a very unmanly fashion and tried to dodge her shoe missiles. They locked him in the back of a police car for his own protection.

 

Elena still wasn't finished. As soon as the sarge put her down, she rushed to the car window, shoes collected and already in her hand. Ernesto shrank to the other side of the car. She tried the door handle, but it wouldn't open. Diaz had the clicker in her hand. The Elena Rivera turned her considerable fury at Diaz.

 

"Open this door so I can beat that butt-chinned ham senseless again!" She demanded.

 

"Err, no Signora Rivera, I can't do that. That would be enabling pre-meditated assault, you see." 

 

"But he deserves to be assaulted!"

 

True. But the law was an ass.

 

"If you walk away now, I wont have to charge you. You're a good woman, Elena Rivera. You don't need a criminal record. Your family needs you. Go be with them."  Diaz nodded to the Rivera huddle.

 

 The Riveras had stopped the big, unreasonably adorable and heart-warming group hug to watch the spectacle. It wasn't every day you got to see an old lady matriarch going full Terminator on Ernesto De La Cruz.  The grandkids were all cheering. The oldest grandkid had been chanting modified football slogans in support of his Abuelita exceptionally loudly, like he thought this was a skirmish at a football match. 

 

Elena looked between her family and the car. She obviously still desired to beat Ernesto De La Cruz senseless, but her family came first.

 

"Fine! But you make sure he is punished!  He took our Héctor from us. He tried to murder my grandson. He needs to pay!"  Elena Rivera insisted.

 

"I will." Diaz reassured her.

 

They had more than enough evidence. The whole world had more than enough evidence. The entire spectacle had been live-streamed after all.  The video had only recently cut out when the person Héctor called Six-fingered Pedro observed "Hey, Héctor ? This is still recording. Should I press stop?"

 

Someone had already uploaded a copy of it to Youtube.

 

"Well, this actually is pretty ironic – don't ya think?" Peralta sassed at De La Cruz as they drove him to the station.

 

"What do you mean?"

 

"We really had no idea where you were, Ernesto. We assumed you'd crossed the border somewhere. We never would have caught you and got all this evidence on you if you hadn't come here to 'clear your name'. I think the bells of justice are tolling for you now!" He grinned at Diaz, clearly proud of his wordplay.

 

"No, Peralta. That's bad. You're trying too hard. You should say something like 'you know copyright law falls under the statue of imitations'."

 

"Oooh, that's a good one!"

 

-0-

 

Things that happened not long after _'Ernesto De La Cruz is a crazy, murdering pyschopathic creeper'_ was uploaded to youtube:

 

  * # WTF Ernesto, #Héctor Rivera is a national treasure #That doesn't make it better # It was just one time,  and #Héctor Rivera: Big Mood began trending on twitter.



 

  * Héctor 's exceptionally exasperated and indignant face looking directly into the camera like he was on _The Office_ while Ernesto flounced around dramatically behind him became a meme with a variety of captions _._



 

  * _Ernesto De La Cruz is a crazy, murdering pyschopathic creeper - the dubstep remix_ was uploaded to Youtube.



 

  * _Ernesto De La Cruz VS Héctor  Rivera VS Alanis Morrissette: ultimate mash-up_ was uploaded to Youtube.



 

  * A very bemused Alanis Morrissette was asked to comment on a century old Mexican murder.



 

  * A still very bemused Alanis Morrissette sent an exceptionally large fruitbasket, flowers and CD of the album _Jagged Little Pill_ to the Rivera residence, apologising profusely for any crimes inspired by her songs, _Ironic, Hands Clean_ and _You Oughta Know._



 

  * Tequila Mockingbird was inundated with a new, morbidly curious and music loving clientele.



 

  * Tequila Mockingbird began serving several new cocktails. _Remember me_ was a concoction so strong you would forget yourself. _Un Poco Loco_ was a Jamaica Me Crazy with a twist (less Jamaica and more crazy).  _Railway Ditch_ was the same as a boilermaker, but served with Ernesto De La Cruz's favourite tequila (because it would taste like murder.) _Butt-chinned ham_ was an old-fashioned but with bacon shavings on top.



 

  * Several armchair psychologists offered their opinion on Ernesto's mental state during _'Ernesto De La Cruz is a crazy, murdering, psychopathic creeper'._ The phrases 'Narcissistic personality disorder', ' Sociopathic level control issues', 'Tendency towards violently possessive behaviour' and 'one-sided homeo-erotic tension' were used very frequently.



  * Héctor developed a special disdain for hearing the phrase 'homeo-erotic tension' from armchair psychologists commenting on YouTube videos.



 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A million thanks to everyone for your beautiful and encouraging comments. Life had been very busy, and I have been a little time poor, but knowing that people are enjoying this story helped me find the time to write - so kudos back to all of you. Sorry that I have not gotten around to replying to your wonderful reviews this time. 
> 
> Title is from Taylor Swift's Bad Blood. Taylor was my number two choice for the female artist that Ernesto became obsessed with, and it still gives me a chuckle to think of him just loving all her betrayal!!!!!1!! songs. She has so many songs about the dudes that have done her dirty and I headcanon that Ernesto loves every single one. 
> 
> I am also open to the interpretation that Ernesto did have a little thing for Hector. There's a few hints in the movie. I'm undecided really, but I thought I'd use it here because it worked with the story. I don't think Ernesto every really examined his feelings, he just knew that he felt very possessive of Hector. He acts like Hector belongs to him. He can't cope with Hector's rejection and asserting boundaries. Yet Ernesto keeps his photo for no reason (he assumed both Hector and Miguel would be dead by the morning, he could have just as easily thrown it in the pool to ruin it), and the guitar (even though that really could have given his game away if Imelda had ever seen him with it). I'd not call it love, and I don't think it was his main motivation for the murder (that will always be selfish greed and hurt ego), but I do think it might have been a factor. 
> 
> The Chorizo thing bugs me, mostly because of the double entendre (choking on chorizo = sucking on a dick). I am 98 percent sure it was Ernesto who spread that story and I think I know the reason why. See, Hector is clearly hurt by it and it makes people laugh at him for how he died, and I can't help but think that he would have never told people himself. But Ernesto has so much to gain from people being dismissive of Hector and what he had to say - a story like that discredits hector. but given the huge wealth and power imbalance between them already in the Land of the Dead, it just seems so unfair. 
> 
> Poor Hector. 
> 
> Pedro would have claimed on their drive down south that Ernesto masturbated over Hector's dead body. That is what Hector accused Ernesto of - it's been bugging him for months! OF course Ernesto denies it, but it is pretty telling that his best friend thinks he would be capable of it. Sadly, as with all stringent denials, it makes people think you are protesting to much. Now the entire world is 98 percent sure Ernesto is not just a murdering psycho, he's a weird and creepy pervert who wanks over dead bodies. 
> 
> Who's choking on a chorizo now, amigo?


	13. If you be my bodyguard, then I can be your long lost pal...

 

 

 Elena had driven her newest houseguest to the police station so he could make a statement.  The police were gathering as much evidence as they could against Ernesto De La Cruz before the trial.  It would take time, but that butt-chinned ham would know justice.

 

Detective Diaz let Elena have one minute with Ernesto De La Cruz (under supervision).  Elena didn't need a whole minute. She eyeballed Ernesto through the bars, until she'd unnerved him good and proper.

 

"You take one step near my family again, and I will beat you so senseless with these heavy winter boots, you won't recognise yourself. Your butt-chin will be the least of your worries when I have finished with you. I swear to god, _I will jam so many shoes down your throat they will pop out your bottom like the knobbly tail of a chihuahua!_ Do you understand me, you butt-chinned ham?!"

 

Elena had brought a large array of old shoes with her. She had hidden them in her handbag. She took them out and started pelting them at Ernesto through the bars. Ernesto De La Cruz had yelped in fright and back away from her shoe onslaught as far as the holding cell would permit. Dectective Diaz had shown her out then.

 

"Can I at least get my shoes back?" Elena asked Dectetive Diaz as she was escorted out.

 

 "No. Go Home Senora Rivera." Diaz commanded. 

 

Six-Fingered Pedro was waiting for her. Their mutual beating of Ernesto De La Cruz with blunt objects was pretty much the only thing Elena had in common with this obvious wastrel.

 

"Hey, Senora Rivera, you are scary as all hell when you want to be. High-five!"  Six-fingered Pedro exclaimed when he saw her, holding up his hand for a high five.

 

"I am too old for high fives." Elena said as she brushed past her newest house guest.  She wondered if Pedro should call it a high six. That would be more accurate.

 

"Understood Senora Rivera. No fives. But respect dude - I mean, lady -  You're a badass. You know how to deal with a psycho."

 

Dios mío! A criminal named Six-fingered Pedro was now staying in her house, congratulating her on the way she hit people with shoes and trying to be her friend. How had this happened?

 

Héctor was how this happened.

 

Mama Imelda used to warn her, saying "Never let a musician into this house. They’re just like stray animals. As soon as you let one in, you have to let in all their terrible low-life friends!"

 

Elena wondered belatedly if this particular pearl of wisdom from Mama Imelda had come from the personal experience of having Héctor live with her and bring around the terrible Ernesto De La Cruz. Probably.  It was still true. Mama Imelda was right. Elena let Héctor in and now she had taken in _two_ stray animals as pets and a man named Six-fingered Pedro was sleeping in her storeroom. 

 

 "Come on, Elena. He's a nice guy and he needs a place to stay for a few nights and he did just save me." Héctor had said. Then the fool musician had given her a puppy-dog look.

 

It worked again, annoyingly. Suddenly, Elena didn't want to say no to him about this. She didn't want to seem unkind or ungenerous in Héctor 's eyes. She didn’t want to let him down. She brought Six-fingered Pedro home.

 

Héctor seemed to like him, but that wasn't saying much. Héctor had never seen anything wrong with Ernesto when he'd been alive after all. Elena took it upon herself to watch Six-fingered Pedro like a hawk.

 

Six-fingered Pedro wasn't any trouble as a guest. He was polite, neat, tidied up after himself, tried to help out in the shoe shop and was grateful for anything Elena fed him. He expressed great appreciation for her cooking as he wolfed down his food. Elena wondered how long it had been since he ate properly. He disgusted and fascinated her grandchildren with his sixth finger and gave them exceptionally questionable advice about being street smart, but he was otherwise tolerable.

 

Elena still didn't trust him though. She waited a few days before she brought up her misgivings with Pedro directly. Héctor was still a bit anxious after his ordeal, though he hid it well most of the time.  Elena didn't want to mention it in front of Héctor when he was still unnerved by everything that had happened - however she had a bone to pick with Pedro. She wasn't one to leave bones unpicked.

 

She brought up the Ernesto incident and Pedro's amazing timing over their morning coffee. Héctor gave her a betrayed look, but she continued anyway. This Pedro could be bad news, and Héctor was so trusting and foolish. He always wanted to think the best of people, and that had never served him well. Most people were bastard coated in bastard with bastard filling. Elena never gave people the benefit of the doubt unless they had proved they deserved it.

 

"Just how did you come to be in the area at exactly the right time. It seems a little _too convenient_ that you were there at all." Elena said, a little harshly, over morning coffee.

 

Pedro had been sitting there, looking a little sheepish.  " Well, I actually needed a big favour from Héctor. I'd come into town to ask him something. Some people in the plaza told me where Héctor would be. I got there just as Ernesto was stuffing him in the van."

 

"Why didn't you whack him with your crowbar then? He was talking at me for ages. You could have saved me much sooner."  Héctor asked.

 

"I didn't have my crowbar then. It took me ages to find a suitable blunt object. I was actually looking for a golf club, but I had to settle for a crowbar. Really, a chipping wedge would have done the trick, or a nine iron. I can use putters at a stretch. I found a hammer first, but that gets messy and..."

 

"What did you need from my Héctor ?" Elena asked abruptly, cutting off what sounded like it was going to be a long monologue about ideal utensils for bludgeoning people.

 

“Well, you see, the thing is….”

 

“If it is something terrible, or criminal, the answer is no.” Elena said, cutting Pedro off rudely. Héctor had a kind and generous nature – people often took advantage of it. Well, not on Elena’s watch! If Pedro asked for anything ridiculous, she wouldn't allow it. 

 

She wasn’t letting anything or anyone hurt her Héctor again. Elena had barely let him out of her sight since it had happened.

 

"No. It’s not criminal, I just…I need a real job. An honest job.” Pedro turned his appeal to Héctor. “I could be your bodyguard. Famous people need body guards and you're going to be even more famous now. I can protect you." Pedro declared confidently.  Héctor smiled at him encouragingly, then looked to Elena.

 

Video clips from the kidnapping were being splashed all over the television, the news and the internet. They were remixed into dubstep songs, made into memes and gifs, spliced with scenes from Ernesto De La Cruz movies, and analysed by experts. Interest in Héctor had only grown exponentially. Pedro was right; He was even more famous now.  

 

Elena and Héctor had a silent conversation with their eyes, gestures and facial expressions. Héctor 's face looked cheerful and excited, he gestured between all three of them, his hand gestures were clearly saying: _This is great. We can help him out. He can help me out. We can help each other._

 

Elena lowered her brows grumpily and cross her arms in a clear _NO.  Absolutely not._

Héctor pouted and pointed at a bemused Pedro _but look at him. He's scruffy and needs feeding._

 

Elena rolled her eyes, _you are also perpetually scruffy and need feeding,_ before she sighed extravagantly, conceding.  She indicted with a pass of her hand that she would allow it. He could keep his criminal as well as his cat, if it made him happy.  Héctor grinned at her.

 

"Of course, Amigo. You can have a job."  Héctor said turning back to Pedro. Pedro's eyes lit up like fireworks.

 

"Aaw, thanks Héctor.  You won't regret it. I'll smack anyone who needs it with a crowbar."

 

"That won't be necessary. I already smack them with my shoes." Elena snapped. “I will smack anyone who bothers Héctor first!”

 

"Children, please. We don't need to fight about what you hit people with..." Héctor cut in with a fond sigh of exasperation.

 

It was so _parental._ Elena has no idea how to take that coming from Héctor.  She was a grandmother! Nobody told her what to do.

 

She wasn’t a child!

 

Héctor was the child!

 

He was only 21!

 

Grandfather or not, he was a damn foolish, irresponsible kid who was so scatterbrained that he would get soaking wet in the rain even if you glued the umbrella to his hand with super glue...  Elena huffed in annoyance at the situation. She just stared at Héctor for a very long moment, until it became uncomfortable for everyone.

 

"Sorry, Mija, you can smack whoever you like with whatever you like," Héctor offered after a moment with an apologetic smile.

 

That was better!

 

-0-

 

“Where's Pedro?” Miguel asked, as he shifted his weight so he would be more comfortable on the roof. He tried to relax and stop his fingers from gripping the tiles.

 

“Elena's putting him to work teaching him to make shoes. She says he needs to be useful and not just loaf around on the sofa watching me.  He's actually pretty good at shoes.” Héctor said with a little smile, not looking up from the guitar he was tuning.  “I think having six fingers really helps.”

 

“They've finally let you out of their sight, eh?”  Miguel returned the smile. Abuelita never let Héctor go anywhere alone now. Héctor said it didn’t bother him, but Miguel wasn’t sure if that was true.  

 

“Yes, and I have chosen to escape to the roof with you. We can enjoy sweet freedom together.” Héctor said, putting an arm around Miguel to steady him.

 

The roof was just an experiment. Miguel used to climb up and around here all the time as a kid. It was near his secret hidey-hole. Since Ernesto had thrown him off a building, Miguel had gotten a little bit _nervous_ about heights. He always tried his best to keep both feet on the ground since his little adventure.

 

Miguel told himself he could get over it, his little heights thing. He wasn’t going to let Ernesto De La Cruz take his sense of adventure and his mad climbing skills away from him. Miguel just had to start small.

 

Héctor knew everything. He knew about what had happened (he’d been there for most of it). He knew about Miguel being _just a little nervous_ about heights now. Miguel wasn’t _scared,_ he’d told Héctor insistently, he just didn’t like heights anymore.  _Not liking_ something was a whole different vibe to _being scared_ of it, Miguel reasoned. 

 

Héctor hadn’t made a big deal of it or freaked out. He wasn’t like everyone else. He still treated Miguel normally. Héctor had just offered to come up with Miguel to the roof, whenever he was ready.

 

Héctor was sitting next to Miguel, tuning the second guitar. He gave it a long strum, and the sound echoed out over the courtyard. “You ready Chamaco?” Héctor asked, turning to Miguel and smiling encouragingly, as he held out the guitar. “You’re going to have to let go of the tiles, if you want to take the guitar.”

 

Miguel looked down at his feet, and the tiles stretching away from him, then the drop where the roof ended.  He gulped.

 

 “I’m right here. I won’t let you fall this time.”  Héctor said softly.

 

Slowly, so slowly, Miguel’s fingers stopped gripping the tiles.

 

“You’re doing great kid. Take your time.”  Héctor said, and Miguel lifted his hands up to take the guitar. Héctor wait patiently until Miguel had the guitar comfortably in his grip.   “You did it. I’m proud of you.”

 

“I did it.” Miguel echoed, feeling smugly proud of himself too. 

 

Take that Ernesto De La Cruz! Miguel wasn’t going to be scared anymore.

 

They played a few of Miguel’s favourite songs together, as the autumn sun sank further in the sky.  They played _Chamaco,_ which was Miguel’s most favourite song ever because it was fast and fun and it had been written just for him.  They played _Jug-ears,_ which was Héctor ’s favourite song ever for the same reasons.  Miguel felt it bubbling up in his stomach then, a joyful little grito. He belted it out, and Héctor joined in.  Their shouts echoed over the town.

 

“Feels good to be doing this again.” Héctor said, when their song was finished. “What do you want to play now?” 

 

“We’ll have to go in soon. The sun’s going to be setting.” Miguel said, Abuelita would freak if they were up here after dark.

 

“We can go in now, if you like.” Héctor said, moving to get up.

 

“No!” Miguel said quickly, grabbing his arm.

 

“Come on, kid.  You’re not having a weird _I-have-to-prove-myself_ moment again, are you?” Héctor said as he sat back down and gave Miguel a little poke in the shoulder playfully.  “You’ve done so great. I’m so proud. You don’t have to prove anything by staying up here.” He added, more seriously.

 

“I’m not trying to prove anything.” Miguel snapped.

 

“You okay, Miguel? C'mon, you can tell me.” Héctor said, and he waited. He sat next to Miguel and watched the sunset and didn’t rush him. 

 

“When we get down, everyone is going to go back to treating me _weird_ again.”  Miguel tried to put into words the frustration he was feeling. He loved his family so much, but they were always in his face lately, being super worried and super nice to him. It was making Miguel feel uneasy in his stomach.

 

“Weird?”

 

“They won’t understand that I’m not scared anymore. They won’t know I’m tough and brave again. It's like when they found out about me getting thrown off a building, they got all worried about me. Now they treat me like I'm made of glass and I'm going to smash.”

 

“Yeah, people who love you will do that. I was worried when you go thrown off the building too.” Héctor said with a shrug.  

 

“But you don't fuss over me like I'm helpless.”

 

“That doesn't mean I wasn't worried.”  Héctor said quickly. “Look, it'll pass. The weirdness. Trust me. When people find out something _really bad_ happened to you, sometimes they go overboard because they want to make it _all better_ really quickly.” Héctor explained, his hands gesturing wildly as he also seemed a little at a loss for words.

 

“Look at it this way, you can now have hot chocolate any time you ask for it and no one is going to grumble about spoiling your dinner,” Héctor said after a moment, with a cheeky grin. “-If you want my advice, _ride that wave chamaco,”_ He made a little surfing gesture with his hands. “Endless hot chocolates don’t last. They aren't going to be treating you like you're made of glass forever.  Enjoy it while you can.”

 

“You promise it won’t last forever?”

 

“I promise.”

 

Miguel nodded, but he still didn’t make a move to get down. They were both quiet.

 

“I know how you feel, you know. Being nearly forgotten, that was _really bad.”_ Héctor broke the silence.  “After the sunrise spectacular…when I first woke up again…everyone was _weird_ around me too.” Héctor confided in a low whisper, like this was a massive secret.  Indeed it was. Héctor never talked about this stuff.

 

“What did you do?”  Miguel asked, turning to face him.

 

“Well, I’m not going to lie, I was mostly just really awkward about everything. It took me a while before I realised they were all acting that way because they cared about me.  And so I tried to concentrate on that, and tell myself that the weirdness was a _good thing.”_

 

“Did that help?”

 

“Kinda, yeah. I also acted like I was _way more fine_ with nearly dying again than I actually was. I wasn’t used to having people worry about me.” Héctor paused and looked at the guitar in his hands.  

 

Miguel waited, not wanting to interrupt him.

 

 “So I acted like I was okay. I always wore something warm and had a glass of water one hand and a snack in the other. That stopped Rosita going _‘Are you okay Héctor ? Do you need anything?  Are you thirsty? Are you cold? Do you need me to make you a snack?'_ every thirty seconds _.”_ He did an impression of Rosita’s bouncy, cheerful tone.  

 

“Did that work, just pretending everything was fine?” Miguel asked, infinitely curious.

 

“I think always carrying a glass of water and a taco helped more with Rosita, to be honest.” Héctor joked, before his face got serious. “Imelda called me out pretty quickly on pretending to be fine. She got super mad at me, saying 'I know you're lying to me Héctor.' And see, I wasn't telling her things I didn't want her to worry or blame herself for what nearly happened to me.”

 

“See, I don’t want the family to worry about me, but they just wont stop!” Miguel huffed petulantly.

 

Héctor wrapped an arm around him and ruffled his hair and tickled him. “Poor Miguel. How awful. _You suffer so much._ You are so cursed. You have a family who cares. _It’s terrible.”_ He teased sarcastically, as Miguel squirmed and giggled.

 

“You are just as cursed as I am– we have the same family.” Miguel fired back, and tried to tickle Héctor in retaliation.

 

“Ah, but it’s different for me.” Héctor said. “I’m a twenty-one year old great, great grandpa. No one knows how I fit into this family, least of all me. Should they treat me like a kid? Like an idiot teenager?  Like I’m 118 years old? Who knows?” Héctor said, with an over-exaggerated shrug.

 

“Well, I just treat you like you’re Héctor – a big, sarcastic, bad-joke telling, guitar-playing dork.” Miguel said, giving Héctor a playful little shove.

 

“Thanks, Miguel. I appreciate that.” Héctor said, giving him another little hair ruffle.

 

“Do Mama Imelda and Rosita and everyone over the other side still treat you weirdly?” Miguel asked after a moment.

 

“Imelda doesn’t,” Héctor said firmly.  “See, when I was pretending everything was fine she got huffy with me. She said that when I hid how I felt, it made her feel _worse,_ not better. She wanted us to be honest with each other after so many years of misunderstandings. …Which was a fair point, really.”

 

“So I told her everything.  About what my time had been like, and trying to see Coco and, you know, how I _really felt_ about things. It was hard, you know, because I hate talking about scary stuff, or sad stuff… so sad, scary stuff is _way out there for me.”_  Héctor gave a rueful little smile.

 

“But things were so much better between us afterwards. I didn’t have to pretend with Imelda after that... and just having her _listen to me_ ...” Héctor trailed off here and looked wistfully towards the cemetery. He sighed deeply.  

 

“See I think, when something _really crappy_ happens to you, it's great to have someone to talk to about it.  Sharing that heaviness made it a lot lighter, you know.” 

 

“Can I tell you something?” Miguel asked quietly.

 

“Of course.”

 

Miguel had been holding a lot of sad, bad feelings inside and pretending he didn’t feel them. But maybe Héctor was right. Maybe Miguel was meant to share his troubles, and not try to carry them on his own.  Maybe he’d feel lighter, if he talked about it. If Miguel could talk to anyone in the family, and have them really _understand_ him, it would be Héctor .

 

“The building thing wasn’t the worst bit…I mean it was pretty bad, but it wasn’t the scariest part of that night. That was when…You remember Ernesto’s house, when we first figured out what happened and they dragged you away?”

 

Héctor nodded, putting his arm around Miguel’s shoulder.

 

“Well, I was left alone with Ernesto De La Cruz after that-” Miguel felt Héctor ’s arm tense up as he pulled Miguel closer to his chest, protectively, even though the danger was long past. Miguel snuggled in, before continuing “- and I knew he was a murderer… and he knew that I knew and…He _looked_ at me. His eyes were just empty, you know, no feelings. He was going to kill me and not even care…” Miguel began, pouring his troubles into the space between Héctor ’s warm, waiting arms.

 

-0-

 

Pedro had been with them for two weeks before he asked Héctor for another favour.

 

Honestly!

 

Elena knew this would happen! She should have known something was afoot when the six-fingered imbecile monopolised her kitchen for the entirely of the afternoon. Pedro had created some very tasty baked goods and chapulines – just to soften Héctor  up for some dastardly favour.

 

Elena munched the fluffy pastry and eyeballed Pedro suspiciously, before glancing down at the treat in her hand, supremely annoyed. It was a fluffy, delightful little creation. _It was good?_ She looked at the pastry rather begrudgingly. Who knew Pedro could cook?

 

“So, I’m a wholesome guy now. I’ve got an honest job. I bake. Baking and cooking are wholesome, right?” Pedro began.

 

Elena raised her eyebrow. _Just where was this going?_

 

“Yes, Amigo. You are most wholesome. Your wholesomeness is delicious.” Héctor agreed, as he helped himself to another cinnamon roll. “These are really good.” He added, blithely munching on delicious deception.

 

“No cinnamon rolls for you Héctor!” Elena snatched it out of his hand, and Héctor made an indignant face. “Stop eating his baked bribery!”  She scolded, before she glared at Pedro. “We want none of your tasty trickery until you tell us what you really want.” Elena harrumphed, crossing her arms.

 

Pedro looked nervously between Elena with her furious face and her arms crossed, and Héctor, who was looking longingly at the plate of tasty trickery. He turned his appeal to Héctor, evidently seeing that Héctor was going to be more receptive to his request at this moment.

 

Damnit. The delicious deception had worked its magic!

 

“Héctor, can you come with me to tell my mama I work for you and I have an honest job now. I was thinking maybe you could show me some things on the guitar and we can play her a song or two together?” Pedro asked, oddly shy for someone who made a hobby out of whacking people with golf clubs.

 

 Just the mention of his mother made Pedro all bashful and embarrassed, as if loving your mother hadn’t been cool in whatever criminal circle he used to run with. It was an odd request, but Elena couldn’t fault it. 

 

“Sure. I'd love to meet your mama.” Héctor said as he reached out to pull a plate of tasty trickery, before he glanced at Elena. He offered her the plate first, looking closely at her for her reaction.  “Would you like some cinnamon rolls now, Elena?”

 

Elena took one.

 

“Fine.” She huffed, agreeing to eat more sneaky snacks and the grant Pedro’s favour. “But I am going with you!”  Elena declared, then munched on her snack in a very aggressive fashion.

 

Pedro wasn’t taking her Héctor anywhere without someone from the family going too. Family stuck together.

 

-0-

 

Enrique decided to accompany his Mama, Héctor and Pedro on their little road trip. He felt like they needed a calm, responsible, non-dramatic and non-violent supervising adult (and not one of those three qualified). It was a fair distance. Pedro seemed to be getting more and more nervous the closest they got to his home town. This nervousness was not helped when Enrique pulled over to swap over drivers and Héctor got behind the wheel.

 

“What in _sweet hell_ is this!” Pedro exclaimed with alarm. “No offense Héctor, but you’re a maniac behind the wheel! I don’t want to die again.”

 

“You can’t die again, Pedro.” Mama Elena pointed out sardonically. Mama Elena wasn’t about to let a chance to disagree with Pedro go by.

 

“Enrique’s been teaching me. I’m not too bad now, I swear.” Héctor said, in a placating voice, trying to assuage Pedro.

 

“You’ve been teaching Héctor to drive!? He can’t even work the microwave and you’re teaching him to drive?” His mother sounded just as alarmed as Pedro now.

 

“He really is getting much better.”  Enrique said defensively. 

 

In the rearview mirror, he saw Pedro and Elena exchange a look of deep understanding. They both pulled their seatbelts tighter.  Pedro gripped onto the safety bar, closed his eyes tightly and started muttering “Oh Jesus,” audibly, while Elena crossed herself and started fingering her rosary and muttering under her breath.

 

“Don’t listen to them Héctor . You’re a good driver,” Enrique encouraged, giving Héctor a clap on the shoulder.

 

Those two didn’t need to carry on so melodramatically. Yes, it had taken Héctor a while to get the hang of driving, but he wasn’t hopeless. He was a pretty quick learner, to be honest. Enrique had spent so much time in a car with Héctor. He just figured it was worth a shot, teaching Héctor to drive.

 

Enrique thought teaching Héctor something new might take his mind off…well, everything. Enrique always felt forward motion was better than sitting still. Maybe driving might help Héctor feel like he had some control over where he was going.

 

Enrique had suggested it one day, out of the blue. Héctor seemed really surprised at the request. “You’d trust _me_ behind the wheel?” He’d spluttered, a little indignantly.  “But I might get you killed.”

 

“I trust you. You won’t get me killed.”   

 

Enrique had taken Héctor to get his learner’s permit in the city, and they’d started driving just in the carpark near the recording studio. Héctor hadn’t even come close to getting Enrique killed. He’d driven like the world’s most cautious grandma for the first two months before he got his confidence up.

 

Enrique hadn’t told anyone about the driving lessons. He wasn’t sure why. He assumed his Mama would be upset and there would be drama.

 

Enrique just wanted less drama in his life. 

 

Besides, sooner or later Enrique was going to have to teach Miguel how to drive. Enrique was already mentally preparing himself for that ordeal. Héctor and Miguel were actually very similar in many ways. The same things seemed to annoy them. When Enrique had been explaining reverse parking, Héctor had hated the phrase  “glide the car in.” When it was time to teach Miguel, Enrique wasn’t going to make the same mistakes. Teaching Héctor was good practice.

 

Enrique had never verbalised this. It wasn’t possible to say “You’re my practise Miguel,” without it sounding weird as all hell. Héctor already got uncomfortable when Enrique tried to ‘dad’ him.

 

Enrique liked Héctor. They got along really well. But sometimes Enrique couldn’t help it. He’d say something too fatherly. Héctor would make a face and say something sassy in response. Enrique normally said something like ‘don’t sass me, son’ at this juncture – and goodness, that was worse! That was even _more fatherly_. Enrique couldn’t seem to turn his father-mode off, even though he tried. Every now and then, Héctor would sarcastically point out that he was technically 118, and older than Enrique. 

 

Héctor drove for the next stretch without incident, aside from several missed turns. Pedro’s directions weren’t the most accurate and were often shouted out at the last minute in a frantic voice. Héctor grumbled that Pedro should try sound more like the friendly computer navigator lady.

 

“He means the GPS.” Enrique told Pedro.

 

“Yes, sound like the GPS and then I won’t miss your turns!”

 

“Turn left in four hundred metres.” Pedro said in a very robotic sounding voice.

 

“Ha ha Pedro. Very funny.”  Héctor  rolled his eyes.

 

“Turn left in one hundred metres.” Pedro said, still in the robotic voice.

 

“You know, there is no need to be sarcastic like that.” Héctor admonished.

 

“Turn LEFT now!”

 

They sailed past the road and Pedro made a frustrated noise. “You said that if I spoke like the GPS lady you wouldn’t miss my turns, but we really needed to take that left!”

 

Pedro talked a lot about himself on the drive down. He told them far too much information about his past. Pedro thought he needed to get revenge on those who had done him wrong, but that hadn’t worked out. He had been shot 18 times since returning. He declared that being shot 18 times had really helped him figure out that he didn't want that kind of violence in life.

 

_Dios mío - it had taken 18 gunshot wounds for him to realise this?_

 

After being shot for the 18th time, Pedro decided he really needed to go straight, and get an honest job for once. This was tricky because he was only really good at smashing people with blunt objects.

 

That wasn’t a very transferable skill.

 

Then he’d seen Héctor ’s music video and realised that he knew somebody rich and famous! Pedro was sure that a rich and famous friend would help on the _getting-a-job_ front.  Despite the GPS incident and his comments about Héctor’s driving, it was clear how grateful Pedro was to Héctor for everything. 

 

Now Pedro had an honest job. He finally felt like he could look his wonderful Mama in the face again, because he was doing something good with his life. That’s what his Mama would have wanted.

 

She hadn’t been pleased when Pedro fell in with his criminal gang. She hadn’t said she loved him or was proud of him for a long time before he had passed. She had really disagreed with his choices and hadn’t been shy about letting him know. They’d quarrelled the night he left, and Pedro had always regretted that his last words to his Mama had been spoken in anger. All Pedro wanted was to make his mama proud. Now he finally had a chance to do that.

 

“I should probably tell you now, she's a big fan of your songs, so she might be a little weird when you meet her.”  Pedro confessed, as they pulled into his mother’s driveway.

 

Pedro’s Mama was actually more weird about seeing Pedro himself. As soon as she had opened the door to see her son standing there sheepishly, she squealed in delight. She pulled him down to kiss him all over his cheeks while simultaneously raining a torrent of scolding upon his head. “My precious precious Pedro. I have been so worried about you. It has been four years! You don’t call or visit or write to your Mama for four years!”

 

Ah. Pedro had been dead for three years.

 

Awkward.

 

While Pedro’s Mama was delighted to meet _friends of Pedro’s,_ she clearly only had eyes for her son. She cooed and fussed over him and brought out his favourite snacks. Pedro proudly informed her he had an honest job ‘as a body guard’. He puffed out his chest proudly.

 

“You always were such a good boy Pedro– I'm so proud of you.” Pedro’s Mama said, while she pinched his cheeks.

 

Pedro’s eyes started to water. “You’re proud of me?”

 

“I’ve always been proud. I’ve always known you were meant to do something good. I love you so much, my son.”

 

Pedro pulled his Mama into a hug and Enrique noticed that it looked like his hands were shaking uncontrollably. The must have been a window open, because suddenly a huge breeze came through the small sitting room.  Pedro was smiling as he cuddled his Mama closer. “I love you mama,” Pedro said, just a few seconds before he exploded in a great big puff of flower petals.

 

-0-

 

“How did he do it? How?” Héctor lamented on the drive back. “He made it look _so easy._ Get a little hug. Say you love someone – _and poof!”_

 

“I think it’s meant to be different for everyone.  Maybe Pedro really just needed to know his mother loved him.” Enrique said calmly.  

 

“But she always loved him! He was the imbecile who didn’t contact his poor mother for four years.” Elena harrumphed.

 

“To be fair Elena, he was dead for three of those years.” Héctor felt compelled to point out in Pedro’s defence.

 

“Maybe he needed hear her say it. Words are important.”  Enrique said, once again sounding calm and patient.

 

“Saying it shouldn't make that much of a difference. She showed him she loved him. He should have known! He shouldn’t need her to say it _._ Saying it shouldn’t have made any difference! _Fool criminal!”_ Elena crossed her arms.  

 

“He said he wanted to make his Mama proud. Maybe turning his life around was what finally did it for him?”  Héctor guessed blindly, trying to assuage Elena’s anger.

 

“What do you know about your mother Héctor?” Enrique asked mildly, sounding curious.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Maybe we can find out who your mother was.  We can research the old orphanage files and....”

 

“They won't have any information about her.  The nuns told me they didn't know her name or where she was from.” Héctor said quickly, not liking where this conversation was heading.  

 

“They might had lied.”  Enrique said with a shrug.

 

“They were nuns! Nuns don't lie.”  Elena said.

 

“Eerr, Elena, nuns actually lie all the time. They tell you not to play with your tortilla or you’ll poke somebody’s eye out – but no one has ever lost an eye to a tortilla, not ever!” Héctor sassed, trying to change the subject.

 

He knew lots of things that nuns certainly lied about, after all.

 

“I still think it is worth a shot, okay. Heaps of re-animated returned because of stuff to do with their parents. Maybe Héctor needs to find out about his? I bet not knowing anything about your mother and father would have been hard, growing up,” Enrique said, looking sympathetically at Héctor.  “Luisa is good at researching and...”

 

“No. Don’t go researching!”  Héctor said quickly.

 

Too quickly. Damnit, now too sets of eyes were looking at him suspiciously.

 

They stopped at a red light, and Enrique turned to face him. “Why?”

 

“It’s 119 years ago now. I'm really fine with not knowing anything about her.  It doesn't bother me. I don't need to know,” Héctor insisted.

 

“Héctor, what don't you want us to know about your mother?” Elena said, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

 

They were definitely going to look into it now. Of course they were. Héctor had sparked their interest. They look in the files and then they’d know. They’d know his mother was a whore, and he had come from the gutter and would bring shame to any family associated with him. They were going to find out one way or another. They could find out from files, or Héctor  could just tell them himself and get it over with.

 

“Because I'm the bastard child of a prostitute, okay!” Héctor snapped petulantly, just blurting out his oldest shame. He crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

 

Both Enrique and Elena raised their eyebrows and recoiled a little.

 

“She was a prostitute who died not long after giving birth to me. I am, _quite literally_ , a son of a whore. No one ever adopted me because I would bring shame upon their family.” Héctor  said, looking out the window so he didn’t have to see the expression on their faces.

 

Enrique and Elena exchanged a look. An awkward silence settled.

 

“So now you know.” Héctor added bitterly.

 

-0-

 

“Héctor, I have something for you.” Luisa said gamely, holding the file behind her back.  She’d been waiting to catch him on his own. Enrique had said she should leave it and shouldn’t meddle, but Luisa wasn’t one to leave something like this alone. Héctor looked up from his writing curiously.

 

“A gift for me?” He said excitedly.

 

Luisa sat down next to him and pulled out the file she’d printed. She’d put it in a manila folder and tied it with a ribbon. “I've been researching, and well… here it is.” 

 

“What is this?” Héctor said, sounding uncertain now. He tentatively reached out to take the file. He didn’t sound happy. Luisa wondered if she made a mistake. She remembered her conversation with Enrique when he’d told her about the road trip.

 

_Don’t look into it, my love. He doesn’t want us to go digging around there. He seemed so ashamed when he told us. I don’t think he wants to be reminded. We’re respecting his wishes and just not mentioning it._

 

“I looked at the digital archives from the Sisters of Mercy around the time of your birth and this is what I've found out about your mother.” Luisa said softly.

 

Héctor looked taken aback and dropped the file on the table in front of him.  

 

Luisa cleared her throat and gathered her courage. She wasn’t one to be blunt or direct, but she felt there was something she really needed to say.  “I think I really need to tell you that you don't bring shame on us, Héctor. Don't ever think that okay, Mijo?” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. 

 

He looked up at her, his expression so vulnerable and hopeful. Luisa pulled him into a proper hug then.

 

“You don't bring shame on us and neither does she - whoever she was.” Luisa continued, tapping the file. “No one will think any less of you for what’s in that file, you understand me?”  Luisa insisted.

 

She felt Héctor nod against her shoulder.

 

She gave him another squeeze before releasing him and reaching for the file.  “If you want to know, it’s all in here.” Luisa said, proffering the file again.

 

“Thank you, Luisa.” Héctor smiled shyly at her then and opened it gently.

 

His eyes widened as he read out the first line. He let out a bittersweet laugh.

 

“What do you know? Her name really was Juanita.”

 

-0-

 

Elena was worried about Héctor.  He had been out of sorts since the road trip where he’d seen yet another re-animated person puff back while he was left behind. _Damn that six-fingered fool!_

Sure, Héctor said he was happy for Pedro, and it didn’t bother him that another person had puffed back while he remained. This was a lie. He said that he hadn’t really needed a body guard – he just felt really bad for the guy and wanted to give him a chance, so he wasn’t even inconvenienced by Pedro’s abrupt return.

 

This was sadly true. If Héctor ever ran a business, he would probably accidentally run it as a charity and hire only wastrels with sad stories and good intentions, even if they were hopeless at everything else. Héctor would be in the business of adopting stray riff-raff and over-feeding them – but you can’t turn a profit from that.

Día de los Muertos was coming up and Héctor was still with them. Elena had ventured that perhaps Héctor would just be able to go home on Día de los Muertos. Perhaps it would be _nice_ and _easy_ for him. Héctor had given an uncharacteristically bitter laugh in response, spluttering “Nice and easy for me?!”  incredulously, like Elena had made an amazing joke.  

 

After nearly a year, there weren’t many re-animated left. Most had fulfilled whatever their unfinished business was and puffed back. Héctor had certainly been trying, but nothing had worked so far for him.  He started writing a list and trying to figure it out by process of elimination. The music people said they were “in talks” with other music people, (Elena could never keep track of music people). Héctor might get a Latin Grammy Lifetime Achievement award at the next ceremony.  Héctor crossed _Success and recognition as a musician_ off his list of potential things that could send him back.

 

Héctor still smiled and laughed and joked with everyone. He played the guitar whenever anybody asked.  But Elena could tell he was sad. Elena loved having him home, but she knew they shouldn’t keep him any longer. They had to try send him back.

 

Things the family did to help Héctor figure out whatever his unfinished business was:

 

  * Luisa had been meddling in the abbey archives and had found out about Héctor ’s Mama. Elena hadn’t thought this was wise. She thought not mentioning what Héctor had told them was the better and kinder thing to do. But Elena had to concede that Luisa had done a good thing. She’d made Héctor really smile. He crossed _Parents?????? finding out who my mother was????_   Off his list.



 

  * Rosa, always organised and inappropriately fond of mathematics and data analysis, had made detailed, colour-coded graphs and spreadsheets. She’d calculated percentages of what phenomenon seemed to send re-animated people back the most. She’d given the whole family a powerpoint presentation on this. Rosa now assumed that Héctor was going to puff back after the trial of Ernesto De La Cruz, as “justice” accounted for 17 percent of her pie chart.  Héctor added _justice?_ to his list.



 

  * Franco had been trying to have Héctor ’s body returned to Santa Cecilia to be properly laid to rest. It wasn’t currently possible because the case was still active. Unfortunately, that railway ditch had been a very popular site for dastardly deeds. Five other bodies had been found under the tequila establishment. They were still trying to identify them all. “This is a terrible city. There’s been so much murder.” Detective Peralta had said apologetically over the phone.   _Being properly buried, eg NOT under a tittybar?_ was still on the list.



 

  * Abel believed in the power of tequila and getting over “sad, traumatic crap” through ill-advised drinking. He thought that if Héctor got over his “tequila thing”, he would puff back. Abel would be devastated if he couldn’t drink tequila again, and he reasoned that Héctor would feel the same.



 

Héctor had actually really enjoyed tequila when he’d been alive the first time. He let Abel talk him into this foolishness. It had been a mistake. He’d vomited all night and felt terrible the next day.  Still he got to add _get_ _drunk on tequila_ , and have the satisfaction of crossing it out straight away.

 

  * Gloria believed in the power of hippy-dippy nonsense. She thought a sprinkling of hippy dippy nonsense “wouldn’t hurt” and it might help Héctor understand himself and his life’s purpose better. She took Héctor to get his cards read, his horoscope analysed, his aura sensed, and his numbers done. Héctor went, not because he believed in the nonsense at all, but because it seemed to make Gloria happy, and he loved making the family happy.



 

He was a Sagittarius, a number 6 and had a pink aura.  He had “the sun” in his future. Héctor didn’t know what to make of any of this and had nothing to add or cross off his list.

 

Elena was most sarcastic about hippy-dippy nonsense over their morning coffee.  There was no way hippies knew the future. If they did, the world would be full of hippy millionaires who’d won the lottery! But most hippies were not millionaires. They were generally unkempt and smelled of patchouli.

 

Héctor seemed to know how much hippy nonsense annoyed Elena. He got that old, cheeky twinkle in his eye and teased “Ah, yes. But because you are born under the sign of the ram, and are a typical Aries, I knew you were going to say that,” he chuckled to himself.

_Fool Musician!_

 

She was not an Aries - whatever that was!

 

(It actually turned out she was an Aries.  Gloria had broken the news to her very gently after she came down to find Héctor and Elena squabbling about starsigns. Then she tsked them both for being such ‘fire signs’).

 

\- Miguel would take Héctor up to the roof to play their guitars most afternoons, reasoning that playing the guitar always helped any situation. Elena could think of many situations in which guitars would provide little to no assistance (wildfires, childbirth, and that terribly depressing moment when you realise there is no way to get anymore toothpaste out of the tube no matter how hard you try), but she kept these thoughts to herself.

 

-0-

What could send me back? A list.

 

~~The family??~~

~~Being with the family??~~

~~Making music for the family??~~

 

~~Proving to the family how much I love them?~~

 

~~Making shoes again??~~

~~Success and recognition as a musician??~~

~~Being a successful musician without having to leave home~~

 

Helping Miguel find success as a musician?

 

~~Parents??????~~

~~Finding out who my mother was??????~~

 

Being properly buried, eg Not under a titty bar???

 

Justice?

~~Finding out gory details. What did butt-chin poisoned me with? Did he masturbate over my dead body? No! Gross! I don’t want to know this.~~

 

~~Getting drunk on tequila again?~~  

~~The family??? Really, I always just wanted to have a family. I don’t understand why it’s not something to do with the family.~~

 

-0-


	14. We keep this love in a photograph...

 

They were practising songs for Día de los Muertos, when Miguel suddenly stopped playing.

 

“I knew you’d come back, you know.” Miguel said. He looked up from his guitar and smiled at Héctor.

 

“What?”

 

“Last year, on Día de los Muertos, I could just tell. I couldn’t see you guys or hear you, but I just kind of _knew_ you were around. I think it will be like that again this year. You don’t need to worry.” Miguel added, trying to sound comforting.

 

Héctor was feeling very worried about the approaching holiday, mostly because he had no idea what would happen. 

 

“That’s good to know,”  Héctor said with a smile, trying to pretend he wasn’t worried at all. He gave Miguel’s hair a little ruffle. “But I think I do need to worry, Miguel. I really need to explain about Mount Imelda. That’s going to be hard if I can’t talk to Imelda.” Héctor said, trying for a light tone and shrugging.

 

“I know it’s not same as getting to talk to someone properly, just _sensing_ someone. But it still made me feel good, you know. I got to know you were okay, and I think you were really happy that night.”

 

“I was.”

 

“I could tell that too, and it was nice.” Miguel said, moving to sit next to Héctor. “I’d been so worried, you know. I didn’t know if Mama Coco had remembered you in time, and then…I could just _tell_ you were there, and…” Miguel stopped speaking suddenly.

 

He hugged Héctor tightly around the middle. Héctor hugged him back.

 

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

 

“You know me, chamaco. I’m always okay.” Héctor said, ruffling his hair again and trying to put on his best smile to reassure the kid.

 

He didn’t want Miguel worrying about him, after all.  No one knew what was going to happen to him on Día de los Muertos, and Héctor was trying not to focus on it too much. Héctor could puff back. Héctor might not be able to see Imelda at all, and be like a normal living person. Héctor might be able to see his dead family and talk to them normally, like he could in the land of the dead.

 

He caught a glance at the calendar. Día de los Muertos was only two days away.

 

In two days he’d know, one way or the other.  

 

-0-

 

Adriana had been delighted when Enrique had called her to invite her to spend Día de los Muertos with the Riveras. He’d said that because Adriana had been going to marry his aunt, she counted as family to him.

 

Enrique was a sweet, kind man. Adriana had really liked him. She’d liked all the Riveras, truth be told. They were a boisterous, loving and delightful family, if a little prone to dramatics. She imagined Día de los Muertos at their house would be a fun affair, and she had readily agreed.

 

 Oh, what a surprise Victoria was going to get when she saw Adriana with her family this year!

 

Elena had been very warm and welcoming when Adriana arrived. She gave her Victoria’s old room, which was surprisingly thoughtful.   Adriana had brought some things for Victoria, and also for her dead family. Adriana wanted to make a good impression.  Elena had led her to the offrenda room.

 

“Don’t let Mount Mama Imelda bother you.” Elena said dismissively, while waving at the largest stack of letters Adriana had ever seen. 

 

It was a truly ludicrous amount of paper and gifts.  Adriana couldn’t help but smile in amusement. So, Victoria _hadn’t_ been exaggerating.  Someone had placed a wheelbarrow discreetly in the corner, with a note attached. Adriana glanced at it.

 

_Mama Imelda,_

_Héctor is ridiculous. This is just in case you need it to carry everything._

_Love Elena._

 

Adriana placed her offerings. She thought she got something for everyone, but there was a relatively new photo on the offrenda. A young man, with six fingers on one of his hands, was smiling and waving at the camera. Oh dear. Adriana thought she knew all of Victoria’s dearly departed family. She picked up the photo worriedly.

 

“That’s just Pedro. Don’t mind him.  He wasn’t family. He just lived in my store-room for a while, making a nuisance of himself.” Elena said severely. Despite her gruff words, she cleaned the photo frame tenderly before placing it back gently in the original spot and moving a small plate of cinnamon rolls closer to the grinning face in the picture.

 

Adriana started placing her gifts on the offrenda. Good Oaxaca chocolate for Rosita, and the twins. Adriana placed the tequila (it had been Victoria’s father’s favourite) in front of Julio’s picture. “I just want him to like me.”  She explained sheepishly.

 

“Well, Papa will love you for this,” Elena said, looking at the tequila then giving Adriana a kind smile. It made Adriana feel less awkward about her next offering.

 

 “I also brought these.” Adriana said, holding up a bundle of photos. She was a photographer and had taken many beautiful photos of the Rivera family over the summer. Some had been posed, but she’d also captured many candid moments of joy.  Victoria said she had never seen Mama Coco happier than she had been during the summer. “I thought Mama Coco might like to remember her time in Mazunte,” 

 

“May I?” Elena said, taking the bundle and flicking through the images.

 

Mama Coco giggling over breakfast as Miguel chatted happily next to her. Mama Coco gazing out at the sea, a peaceful expression on her face. Elena and Victoria laughing together. (Mama Coco had loved watching her daughters together and happy). Miguel and Héctor playing their guitars. Mama Coco holding little Coco on her lap, both of them smiling huge grins. Héctor looking adoringly at Coco. (She’d started humming baby-shark, right before Adriana had taken the photo. Héctor had been delighted. He’d thought Coco learning a ‘new song’ had been a really good sign, at the time.)

 

Elena looked at her mother’s happy face in the photos, before she carefully placed them on the offrenda before Mama Coco. “They’re perfect.” Elena said gruffly, turning away to wipe at her face. “Excuse me, I have to go tend to something in the kitchen.” She’d said quickly and departed.

 

Adriana gave Elena privacy and started placing the rest of her gifts on the offrenda. She put another bundle of photos in front of Victoria.  She’d made copies of all her favourites of the two of them. Victoria had mentioned how horrible it had been, not even having a photo of Adriana in the land of the dead.  Now she’d have lots.

 

Adriana had also brought silk scarves for Victoria’s hair, lots of her favourite foods, many books and all the art supplies she knew Victoria would want and need, Adriana was now struggling to find room on the outrageously crowded offrenda. She eventually placed some of her offerings alongside the wheelbarrow, and wrote her own note.

 

  _Victoria,_

_The offrenda is too crowded, but these are for you. Mount Mama Imelda indeed! You really weren’t joking._

_I love you._

Adriana had also written her own love letter, (nowhere near as long and expansive as some of Héctor’s) but it said everything she wanted to say. She placed this before her Victoria, along with a magazine.  She’d had some photos featured in the cover story “Mexico’s top ten sexiest men – 2019 edition.” 

 

Victoria was going to find that hilarious.  Adriana just wished she could see her face when she read it. Adriana had written _I hope you get a kick out of this. You’ve got to stop complaining now, darling. He really did have good genes_ on a post-it, and stuck it to the front.

 

Lastly, Adriana had to find room for her Mama Imelda gifts.  There was nothing for it, she was going to have to add them to Mount Imelda. She’d never met Mama Imelda, but she’d felt vaguely nervous all the same. Adriana really wanted Mama Imelda to like her, and she was worried that this might be over-stepping.  But Héctor was ridiculously photogenic, and she’d taken so many nice photos of him (and been paid quite handsomely for some of them!)

 

Adriana knew that all she wanted was to know that Victoria was happy and safe. She imagined Mama Imelda would want to know the same thing about her husband.  Héctor looked happy and healthy in the all the photos. Adriana hoped they would make Mama Imelda feel better about being separated from her husband, especially tonight of all nights.

 

It was strange that Héctor was still here. There some reanimated left, but most had returned by now. Adriana spoke to Enrique frequently. He thought the holiday was going to be hard for Héctor. But he was trying to be optimistic. There was the trial coming up too. Hopefully Héctor needed _justice,_ and he would puff back after Ernesto De La Cruz got what was coming to him.

 

Adriana left the offrenda room and helped the rest of the family set up for the celebrations. Elena had composed herself again and was once again running a tight ship. Talk flowed easily enough that it took a while before Adriana noticed that something was amiss. It was a little quieter than she’d come to expect from a Rivera gathering.  Now that she’d noticed, it didn’t take her long to pinpoint why.

 

“Where are the boys?” She’d asked Elena.

 

“They’re at the plaza. Héctor and Miguel are playing a show. They’ll be home before sunset.”

 

Ah. That made sense. Adriana hadn’t wanted to impose on the Riveras and had originally looked for accommodation in the town. She had been surprised when it had been impossible to book anything. Everything was all booked up for months.  Santa Cecilia was really on the tourist trail now. People came from everywhere to see Héctor and Miguel play music in the plaza. It had really rejuvenated the sleepy little town. Adriana had the rare privilege of listening to them frequently over the summer. Adriana could see why people would make a special trip to the town to hear them.

 

As if on queue, Adriana heard a commotion coming up the street.  She went to the door and saw Héctor, Miguel, Enrique and Abel walking along the cobblestones. Héctor and Miguel had guitars slung over their shoulders. A steady stream of people were following them excitedly. Héctor and Miguel were both very charming and affable with their fans.

 

They stopped on the corner. Héctor was signing everything proffered towards him. “Everyone got what they wanted signed? No one has been forgotten, have they?” he asked the crowd.  People called out for his attention and he went over to them. 

 

After he was sure no one had been forgotten, he made a cheeky shooing gesture.  “Okay, fans and tourists, it has been a lovely afternoon, but Miguel and I really have to go now. Go be with your families! It’s Día de los Muertos!”

 

They both turned and saw her at the same time. Miguel, always incredibly affectionate, had launched himself at Adriana and given her a huge hug. Héctor had waited until Miguel “had his turn” before giving her a big hug too. “Adriana, you made it! Victoria is going to be so happy when she sees you here.” He said, welcoming her with a wide smile that put her instantly at ease.

 

Adriana had always liked Héctor. She remembered how Victoria had introduced them that first afternoon. Victoria had no idea that Adriana had already met Enrique and Héctor several times previously. (Victoria had discovered their attempts to play matchmaker pretty quickly though and she’d had _some words_ with Héctor and Enrique).

 

“Adriana, this is Héctor, my grandfather…but everyone thinks he’s my son. My stupid joke-telling, baby shark-singing, idiot son.”  Victoria had said, clapping Héctor on the shoulder affectionately.

 

“It’s just because we look so alike, and I died young…not because Victoria is more mature or anything like that. Don’t let her fool you, Adriana. She’s not sensible…” Héctor had chimed in rather cheekily. Victoria had given him a playful shove.

 

Día de los Muertos at the Rivera household was a joyous affair. They were entertained by Héctor and Miguel on their guitars, Rosa on her violin and Abel playing his accordian.  The food was delicious and plentiful. The drinks and conversation were freely flowing.  Enrique started twirling Luisa around to the music.  Everyone seemed happy. They were joking and laughing with each other.

 

If Enrique hadn’t told Adriana how worried everyone was about Héctor, she never would have guessed. The Riveras were not subtle people, and Enrique told her _operation: Keep Héctor happy over the holiday_ was going to be done with subtly and finesse. Adriana had been immensely curious about how the normally very melodramatic family were going to pull this off.

 

The whole family knew it would be strange for Héctor to be on this side of life for Día de los Muertos. They were trying their best to keep him distracted. Miguel and the other children obviously adored their great great grandfather and were very good at distracting him. Enrique and Berto always made sure his glass was full. Gloria and Luisa would talk to him non-stop, whenever he put his guitar down for a second. Adriana caught even Elena glancing anxiously at Héctor. She never said anything, but Adriana noticed her hand on his shoulder, giving an occasional squeeze and a seemingly endless supply of chapulines.

 

A quirk of being re-animated was that Héctor could tell who’s spirit was nearby and what they were saying. He seemed to be having fun with this. “Elena, Coco is next to you. She’s saying she wants to whatsapp call you again.”

 

Elena’s reaction had been rather amusing.

 

 Suddenly Gloria wanted to have an in-depth conversation with Rosita about starsigns. It had been a shared interest of theirs when Rosita had been alive. Héctor looked worried. He clearly didn’t want to be stuck talking about starsigns.  Adriana came over to rescue him.

 

Technically speaking, Adriana wasn’t part of _Operation: Keep Héctor happy over the holiday,_ but she reasoned she’d do a better job than Gloria right now.  Besides, she might be actually able to communicate with Victoria.  She walked Héctor to the offrenda room where it was a little quieter.

 

“Is Victoria here?”  

 

“Err, yes, she’s right next to you.”

 

“What’s she saying? Has she missed me? Did she get to meet Frida? What was she like?”

Adriana asked, excitedly. She wanted to hear all about it.

 

Héctor gave her a guilty, apologetic look. “Okay, the whole thing about being able to hear the dead – that was a lie, and I apologise for that.” He said, sheepishly. “I just wanted to tease Elena a little bit and make her smile– she seems a bit serious tonight, doesn’t she? Scolding me about whatsapp always makes her more lively.”

 

Ah. That made sense. Still, Adriana could help but feel her heart sink. She’d foolishly gotten her hopes up about being able to talk to Victoria, and now she felt bitterly disappointed.  

 

“Oh.”  She said sadly.

 

“I really am sorry. If it helps, Victoria is here now.” Héctor said, sounding concerned now.  

 

“Is this more bullshit?”

 

“No. I actually can tell who’s close. I can’t talk to them…but I can _feel their energy_ I guess, and I know who is who… and if they’re feeling a feeling really strongly, I can get a sense of that too.”  Héctor explained.

 

“Really? How can you tell?” Adriana was fascinated, despite herself.

 

“Well, Julio and Coco walked _right through me_ before. Watch where you’re going lovebirds!” He threw over his shoulder with a teasing grin, before turning back to Adriana, lowering his voice like he was going to say a secret “They’ve already been at the tequila you left them. They are having a _wonderful time.”_

 

Adriana stifled a smile, before asking seriously “Do you think they like me?”

 

“The whole family loves you. You made our Victoria happy.”  Héctor said simply, with a great deal of certainty.

 

“Well, she made me happy too.  I really love her.”  Adriana said, looking at where Héctor said Victoria was standing.

 

“She says she loves you too.”

 

Adriana quirked her eyebrows in disbelief. “You said you couldn’t hear them.”

 

“I just know that’s what she’d say.”  Héctor replied.

 

“Shame we can’t properly talk to them. I was really looking forward to seeing Victoria’s reaction to _the magazine_ I left for her on the offrenda.” Adriana said, deciding to tease Héctor for once.  

 

“You left a copy of _the magazine_ on the offrenda?”  Héctor sounded alarmed now.

 

“Yes, Victoria is going to get such a kick out of it.”

 

“Oh no. You didn’t.”  Héctor said, running his hands through his hair distractedly.

 

“What’s wrong? You said you found it funny when I called and asked you if I could use the photos from the holiday.” Adriana felt a little surprised at his reaction.

 

“Yeah, funny _weird_. Like, I know I joke a lot about being muy guapo, but really? This?” -  He gestured to his own face – “In the top ten?”

 

“Well, all of Mexico is in love with you.  I personally think it’s your amazing bone structure that sends the girls wild.” Adriana couldn’t help but marvel at the irony of the situation. She was an old lesbian trying to explain to one of mexico’s sexiest men what made him attractive to girls.  

 

“Thanks,” Héctor said, blushing but clearly flattered, before he shook himself and began pacing and running his hands through his hair. “No, this is bad.” He turned to the empty air next to him. “I swear Imelda, I had nothing to do with this. I didn’t ask anyone to find me sexy.”

 

“I don’t think your wife will be mad.  How can she be? Surely she must have found you sexy too.” Adriana offered.   

 

“Ah, but you have never met my wife. She can get angry about all sorts of things.” Héctor explained. “Oh no, she’s angry I just said that.” He said, his eyes going wide with alarm. “Shit, I’m in trouble when I get back, aren’t I?”

 

Adriana thought he was being a little over-dramatic, and she tried to calm him down. “Well, from everything Victoria told me, I think it sounds like she loved you very much.  She won’t be mad for long. She probably really misses you.”

 

“I miss her too.” Héctor said quietly.  

 

Adriana felt a sudden gust of wind through the offrenda room.

 

“Oh, Ah, Victoria just left really abruptly. I think she wants you to follow her outside to the party.” Héctor said after a moment.  

 

“Are you coming too?” Adriana said as she turned to go.

 

“No. Imelda’s still here, and I’ll stay with her.”

 

Oh!

 

 They wanted _alone_ time.

 

Adriana could respect that. She could cover for him.

 

-0-

 

Héctor had been trying to get alone time with Imelda all night. He could feel her essense? Her spirit? Her Imelda-ness. Whatever it was, it was impatient. He could feel her trying to lead him somewhere… but the rest of the family hadn’t really given Héctor a second to himself so he could follow her properly.

 

Now was his chance.

 

He knew they were worried. Héctor understood why. He’d been a little worried himself. He didn’t know how being a re-animated on Día de los Muertos was going to go. He was definitely more in the “alive” category tonight. He couldn’t see or hear the dead – but he could feel them, just like Miguel said. That was _something_ at least.  

 

He’d felt Imelda first. Not long after the sunset, he’d felt this rush of Imeldaness around him, like she was trying to hold him close. She’d passed right through him a couple of times, and that had been _weird,_ but it was okay because it was Imelda, and she was here.

 

Héctor felt his living and dead family all around him.  Victoria stuck pretty close to an unknowing Adriana. Rosita had a bouncy, cheerful energy. The Twin’s had a kind of nervous, jumpy energy.  Julio and Coco was dancing all over the place with this joyous, drunken energy. Several times Héctor thought Coco was trying to dance with him, and he could feel her pass straight through him.

 

Dios Mio, his baby girl was getting snozzled on her first Día de los Muertos. Héctor couldn’t help by smile to himself. She took after him in that respect.

 

Imelda stayed pretty close to him all night. She was next to him as they ate dinner, she was next to him throughout the fireworks. She was next to him as he sang the songs he’d written for her.  He hoped she liked her songs. It seemed like she did. He’d felt such a warm feeling coming from her as he sang.

 

It felt like she loved him.

 

As soon as Adriana left the offrenda room, Imelda’s energy was pushing him out the door, leading him through the streets. They went quickly. Héctor could feel the force of Imelda’s determination. It was like she had a hold of his hand and was pulling him somewhere. Héctor would follow her anywhere, even like this.

 

It was the early hours of the mornings. Most people were celebrating in their homes now, and the streets were largely empty.  They ended up at the cemetery, which was lit by a few stray candles still burning on the graves. Imelda pulled him up the hill near the stupidly big Ernesto mausoleum.

 

They were near where the marigold bridge had been last year.

 

Oh.

 

Imelda’s energy grew more frantic now, like she was pulling with all her might. Héctor couldn’t see the bridge at all, but he figured for Imelda, he’d try. Every time Héctor tried to follow Imelda further, her energy got frustrated. He thought he must have been walking straight through the bridge each time. There was no way the petals would hold him up.

Imelda was undeterred. She would lead him a little down the hill, and then start pulling towards the bridge to try again. This went on for several minutes, before Héctor spoke.

 

“I hate this bridge.” He said softly. “It’s never going to let me cross.” He had thought being alive again meant the end of his futile attempts to cross the dumb flower bridge.

 

He could tell Imelda didn’t like that.  He tried to hug where her energy was.  His hands were probably passing straight through her. It made him feel so exasperated. This was ridiculous – he couldn’t even hug his wife properly when she was upset. 

 

“If anyone could pull me back with sheer force of will, it would be you, my love…but I don’t think it works that way. We can’t trick the system. I even died again, and that wasn’t enough.” He tried explaining to her.

 

Oh, Imelda really didn’t like that.

 

It was hard to pick up on the nuance, and that had always been important with Imelda. Often, when Héctor had first moved into her house again, he would worry she was angry at him whenever she was out of sorts.  Then she’d say something like “No, Héctor. I am angry because that man was rude to you, and no one is ever going to be rude to you again or I will slap them so hard their skull will spin.”

 

They couldn’t talk like that now. Imelda couldn’t tell him whatever she was thinking, and Héctor wasn’t going to get to feeling that warm feeling in his heart that he felt whenever she spoke. Oddly, despite all their years of estrangement, Imelda had the oddest way of saying the right thing to make Héctor feel better.  He could try do the same for her. He’d made her angry, but if he really concentrated, he could feel her energy was full of worry and concern too.

 

Ah, it was probably because he’d just casually mentioned dying again. That’d worry her.

 

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I got hit by a car back in January. It doesn’t hurt me now. They tell me I died a couple of times in hospital. But I guess it didn’t _kill me,_ kill me.” He explained. “I can’t go back by the normal routes, like dying or the stupid flower bridge. I think, _whatever this is…_ There’s no shortcut… not for me, at least.”

 

 “I’m sorry.”  He added after a few moments of silence. His apology felt so inadequate, after everything. Imelda was all around him again, like she was trying to hug him. He tried to do the same back to her, even though it was impossible.

 

“I wish this had happened back when I first died, you know. Then nothing would have been able to stop me getting back home to you…” Héctor confessed.  Sometimes he found himself thinking _why couldn’t this have happened 96 years ago_ indignantly, but this was the first time he’d ever said that out loud.

 

“Wait, wait, wait - that’s stupid. I’d still be dead then.” Héctor said, cutting off his first thought. “I just wish… I wish I had made it back home to you.”  It was the one thing Héctor had always wanted - to make it back home to Imelda and make a whole big family with her and watch them grow up get old and wrinkly with her by his side.  

 

“I wish I could just come home.”

 

It felt like Imelda was holding him tighter, like his heart was being squeezed.

 

“Gah, if Elena could hear me, she’d say wishes are as pointless as a bicycle for a fish. But still…” Héctor trailed off. He sat down on the steps of Ernesto’s stupidly extravagant mausoleum. He felt Imelda settle in next to him.  “I guess I made it home. I’m just a nearly century late, eh?” He joked weakly. 

 

“I love being home…but I _don’t like_ being left behind.” He whispered, finally confiding in her what had been in his heart.

 

He could always talk to Imelda. Even in this bizarre one-way conversation, he felt like she was listening to him. He never wanted to complain about his situation to any of his living family, because it seemed like he’d be complaining about being in the land of the living with them – and that wasn’t it at all. He loved his living family so much and he didn’t want them to think otherwise. So he’d kept his hurt and longing and worry and constant disappointment to himself.

 

“I am just so homesick for you, my love.” He whispered.  “It’s worse than last time, because at least when I was alive, I knew I just had to hop on a train and I could go home to you… although I guess, I got murdered when I tried that-”

 

Imelda got angry again. Damnit, this was their one night together and he kept pissing her off.

 

– “but anyway, if I hadn’t died, we would have been only a train ride apart.” Héctor continued.

 

He felt Imelda lean even closer to him. She wanted to be close too.

 

“I miss you everyday my love, but I think I have to make the best of it, you know.” Héctor said, trying to sound cheerful. He wanted to cheer them both up, otherwise they’d just be sad for their whole time together and Héctor didn’t want that.

 

“I’m trying my best to be happy here.  At least I get to be with the family. I got to teach Miguel all my tricks. And the modern world is amazing. I’ve written to you everyday to tell you about all the good things…well, I guess you saw Mount Imelda…” Héctor said, feeling a little sheepish.

 

Everyone was teasing him about Mount Imelda, but he had so much to say to his wife and so much to give her.

 

  “Anyway, did I tell you Enrique taught me to drive? I just got my full license the other day. I’m actually a good driver” Héctor offered, trying to change the subject away from both sad things and embarrassingly large offrenda offerings.

 

Improbably, a wave of mirth came from Imelda’s energy.

 

“Okay, I kind of feel like you’re laughing at me now, but I can prove it.” Héctor reached into his pocket and got out his license to show her. He was unfortunately making his usual goofy face in the photo.  There was more mirth coming from Imelda now, but at least he had cheered her up.

 

“Rosa thinks it won’t be long now. She did something with graphs and powerpoint.”

 

He said, as he felt confusion bubble up from his wife’s spirit.

 

 “That’s a program on the devil box. Rosa puts information into it. Then it made lots of pictures and lots of what she called _star-wipes._ They were amazing Imelda! The whole screen went _whoosh_ in this star shape.” Héctor did a series of gestures, trying to demonstrate a star-wipe through interpretative dance. “Rosa got annoyed at me for being distracted by star-wipes, but in my defence, they were very distracting.”

 

Imelda seemed to be laughing again.

 

“She also gave me a book about feelings, and a book about psychopaths and a book about mathematics and she said they would explain everything.  And _that’s a lie!_ I read all three of

them, and they explained nothing!” Héctor huffed, before he added, in fairness to Rosa, “Well, I can now calculate the area of a circle… but that _doesn’t help at all._ ”

 

“Anyway, Rosa has a theory that my spirit is waiting for ‘justice’, and I’ll get to go back after Ernesto’s trial. It starts in a week. I’m hoping the second I hear a guilty verdict, I’ll puff back.  I’ll see you again so soon.”

 

Imelda felt happier next to him.

 

“Can I tell you something terrible?” Héctor said, even though he knew he wasn’t going to get a response. “If Rosa is right and I have been waiting _this whole time_ just because of stupid Ernesto, I am going to be _so pissed off._   Why should I have to wait for his murdering arse to be punished? Why am I being punished too? God-damn Butt-chin. He’s always trying to keep us apart.” 

 

Imelda was angry too, but Héctor liked to think she was angry on his behalf.

 

“His lawyer keeps requesting I go see him. Apparently, now Ernesto really wants to talk to me.”  The constant requests had bothered Héctor. He’d thrown every letter from that lawyer in the bin, unceremoniously.  

 

“What the hell for! There is nothing we could possibly say to each other now. He dumped my body in a railyard ditch. I have _nothing to say_ to him.”  

 

There was shocked fury radiating from Imelda now.

 

“Yeah – railway ditch in Mexico City. What a lazy arsehole! He couldn’t even drag my arse to the desert like a normal psycho killer!” Héctor said indignantly.  “And now there is a titty-bar built over me and everyone thinks Ernesto wanked off over my dead body,” Héctor gave a dramatic and revolted shudder.

 

Wow, there were a lot of different feelings radiating out of Imelda at the moment. Héctor didn’t want to make her feel worse, but he had so much bothering him and so much to say and he’d been keeping it all inside and he needed to talk to someone.

 

“Do you want to know something really petty?  I’ve been calling him Butt-chin non-stop. Now everyone calls him Butt-chin on this side. This time, he gets to be the one saddled with an undignified nickname for the rest of time.” Héctor said, sounding satisfied. “I hope people call him butt-chin over the otherside too. He really hates it,” he added bitterly.

 

“Maybe Rosa is right. Maybe I do have “unprocessed anger” about being murdered.”  Rosa had said that according to her theory, processing his anger was important. Héctor had denied having any anger he needed to process. “I don’t know what she meant by _unprocessed anger_ you know…like does she want me to put my anger into a machine and wait for it to come out all shiny, in a brand new can?”

 

Héctor had heard of bottling his anger, but he had never heard of canning his anger. He imagined it would be just as effective though.

 

“Miguel says _unprocessed_ means I haven’t talked about it… and I guess I haven’t…and you know, I knew he wanted me to talk to him, so we could bitch about Ernesto together, but I didn’t want to dump all my problems on little Miguel.  Chamaco doesn’t deserve that.” Héctor gave his head a rueful little shake.  He wouldn’t do that to Miguel.

 

“I guess, the sad thing is, if there was anyone in the whole world I could talk to, it would be you.”

 

Héctor couldn’t quite tell what Imelda was feeling now, and that worried him. If only they could properly be together, he could just ask her what was wrong. This was the hardest thing about this one-sided conversation. He just wanted to hear her voice again, know what she thought. Imelda had always been smart. She might be able to figure out what he needed to do to get back.

 

 “Urgh! This is so frustrating!” Héctor exclaimed suddenly, running his hands through his hair impatiently. “If I can talk to you properly, I might be able to puff back … but I can’t talk to you properly again _until_ I puff back.  It’s ironic, don’t ya think?” Héctor said and felt his mouth twist wryly.

 

He’d listened to the CD that Alanis Morrisette had sent. It was pretty good. But sadly, no matter how good it was, Héctor was always going to associate her music with Ernesto’s crazy ranting in an abandoned industrial building. Shame. That was yet another song Ernesto had ruined just by being him.

 

Imelda seemed curious about his change in mood. If Héctor explained, he’d have to tell her all about kidnappings and industrial buildings and Ernesto’s weird collection of nesting dolls and his curious taste in modern music.  The thought made Héctor feel very tired all of a sudden.

 

Héctor could say all that, and they still wouldn’t be able to have a conversation properly and he would have wasted more of what preciously little time they had left talking about that butt-chinned arsehole.

 

Butt-chin had taken enough time from them.

 

The church bell was chiming. It was going to be sunrise soon. Imelda would have to go in a few minutes. Héctor didn’t want to waste any more time.

 

“I love you so much Imelda. I’ve been trying so hard to come home and nothing’s working, and I’m so sorry. I know I promised you I’d never leave you again, and now I know you’re mad at me and I’ve screwed up again…”

 

His words were abruptly cut off by this overwhelming feeling from Imelda.  It felt like a wave of love and longing and forgiveness.  He felt her all around him, like she was trying to embrace him. She wasn’t angry at him at all. Héctor had been so worried about that, about letting her down again – but it wasn’t like that at all. She loved him. She missed him. She just wanted him home. Héctor wanted the same.

 

“I love you too.” He said softly, trying to show that he had understood what she was trying to say. “But you’ll have to go soon. The sun is nearly rising.”

 

It felt like Imelda’s spirit wanted to argue with him – because some things never change, but Héctor knew he was right. “Come on Imelda, you don’t want to get stuck here too.” He said gently.

 

Reluctantly and sadly, he felt her spirit turn away and depart. Héctor kept his eyes on where he knew the dumb flower bridge was until the sun had well and truly risen. 

 

-0-  

 If it were possible, Elena was going to kill him when she found him. This was becoming her least favourite Día de los Muertos tradition; tracking down lost family members all over Santa Cecilia.

She stomped around the town in the early hours after sunrise, looking for their lost giraffe. She found Héctor asleep next to Mama Imelda’s grave. Something about the sight made her considerable fury dissipate like a puff of air.  

“Come on, you ridiculous giraffe, get up.” She said, poking him firmly in the shoulder.  Héctor blinked at her blearily. “Fool musician. I’ve been worried sick! It’s time for you to come home to your family.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Ed Sheeran's Photograph, which is just a lovely song in general, but I think it's also very fitting for Hector.


	15. I've built my life around you. But time makes you bolder, even children get older...

The trial of Ernesto De La Cruz had finally arrived. It caused quite the media sensation.  Everybody and their weird second cousin were enjoying the spectacle, trading the latest gossip and speculating wildly. A bemused Alanis Morrisette asked for comment, again. She wasn’t the only one. Everyone wanted to chime in with their opinions. There were so many television presenters that Elena was going to slap with a shoe if she ever met them in real life.

 

Ernesto strode into the Santa Cecilia court, head held high, unrepentant. He looked well-groomed and slick. He made a matched set with his oily lawyer. It was like Ernesto thought the courtroom was a stage.

 

“You want to cast me as the bad guy, then I can play that role,” he blustered when he was asked a tricky question by the prosecutor.  

 

“This isn’t a film, Senor De La Cruz.” The prosecutor had said sternly, before he turned to the courtroom, displaying a collection of documents, “This is evidence that Ernesto De La Cruz purchased arsenic on November 30th, 1921. Senor De La Cruz, can you please read out…”

 

“My birthday!” Héctor yelled, standing up abruptly, interrupting the lawyer and startling everyone. They had been instructed to keep quiet, but this was clearly something Héctor  could not let slide. He looked furious. “You started planning to kill me on my god-damn birthday!” He yelled at Ernesto, clenching his fists.

 

“Héctor, you have to understand, you were so annoying about missing your family on your birthday, and….” Ernesto started to explain.

 

Héctor turned on his heels and strode out of the courtroom on his long giraffe legs at a rapid pace, not wanting to listen to Ernesto’s excuses. Enrique ran after him, but Elena couldn’t catch up. She heard Ernesto yelling “Héctor! Come back!” while the journalists went nuts, Ernesto’s lawyer yelled objection, and the prosecutor yelled that he should answer the question and the judge yelled for order.

 

Goodness, there was quite a commotion. 

 

“I didn’t want to hurt him.” Ernesto said quietly, almost to himself, when the courtroom had calmed down again.  “I just didn’t want him to leave me.”

 

If he were anyone else, Elena would almost believe him. Elena wasn’t falling for his contrite act.  He was a good actor, and Mama Coco hadn’t raised a fool.

 

 

-0-

 

“On the charges of pre-meditated murder, two counts of attempted murder of a minor, fraud, theft of intellectual property, impersonating a priest, impersonating a nun, impersonating a diplomat, impersonating a government official, theft of an elaborate, bespoke white acoustic guitar, theft of a panasonic large screen TV, theft of...." the jury spokesperson began reading out Ernesto’s list of crimes. 

 

It was extensive.

 

Ernesto had forgotten he’d done half this crap.

 

 "....theft of 1962 commemorative Ernesto De La Cruz nesting dolls and public littering…"

The spokesperson paused dramatically. Everyone was hanging on her next words.

 

“We find Ernesto De La Cruz – guilty.”

 

There was some cheering. Ernesto was the bad guy after all. Everyone loved watching the bad guy receive his punishment.  He was _the Murdering Mariachi_ , who killed his best friend (his only family, his brother) for his songs. 

 

Ernesto had been both loved and hated by crowds, and on the whole he preferred to be loved, but there was one advantage of his current situation.  His reputation was gone forever – it had always been so important to him.  But he could forge a new reputation. Every fairy-tale needed a good villain.

 

People _remembered_ the bad guys. His bones would stay white and strong. He wouldn’t break. He would be remembered for a long, long time to come.  So would Héctor. No one would ever forget the two of them.

 

Really, his friend should have been grateful. 

 

Ernesto had planned to tell Héctor all this, but Héctor hadn’t come to see him. Ernesto kept asking for him, requesting that the lawyer _do something_ to make Héctor visit him. The birthday thing – it looked bad. Ernesto could see that it looked bad. He knew Héctor was upset about it. He wanted to explain. For once, he wanted to be honest.

 

Héctor never gave him the chance.

 

Maybe Ernesto had too many chances.

 

When he’d first died, Héctor had found him. At first Ernesto had assumed Héctor had come to confront him about the murder – but Héctor had been contacted by the department of family reunions as the closest thing Ernesto had to family in the Land of the Dead. He’d come to comfort Ernesto as he got used to being dead.

 

Héctor had smiled at Ernesto, listened to the story of his death sympathetically. _Crushed by a huge bell? That is rough amigo!_ It was almost like old times. Then Héctor had asked a lot about his family and Ernesto had told a few fibs, feeling his like his stomach was squirming with unease – even though he didn’t even have any organs.

 

He’d started to avoid Héctor, much to Héctor’s confusion. Ernesto knew he was acting strange and suspicious. He felt convinced Héctor was going to find out. Surely Ernesto’s guilt must be plain for anyone to see.

 

Then there would be a reckoning. 

 

Ernesto had been waiting for some kind of reckoning the entire time he’d been dead. He’d been waiting for a reckoning for most of his life too, if he was being honest with himself. What he had done was terrible; Ernesto knew he shouldn’t have gotten away with it. It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was.

 

He had spent his entire life always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He was so guilty, he was filthy with it.  Ernesto had been raised by catholic nuns. It had been drilled into him that he would have to pay for his sins someday. Punishment was the only way his soul could be cleansed.

 

But no punishment ever came.

 

There was the first Día de los Muertos and all the offerings, and then his fans arrived, and they loved him, and they sang Héctor ’s songs everywhere. And Héctor heard. Héctor _knew_ Ernesto had stolen his songs.

 

Surely, Héctor must had guessed about the rest?

 

Ernesto didn’t want to be revealed as an empty, murderous fraud.  Ernesto had to discredit Héctor, so no one would believe him if he went blabbing. Ernesto had spread a few rumours, funny stories, about Héctor choking on a chorizo (knowing full well the double-entrendre most people would assume from that euphemism).

 

Ernesto said Héctor had always been envious of his talent and a bit obsessed with his songs - bit obsessed with him really. “Have you seen how he is always trying to talk to me? Pathetic isn’t it? I think he was a little bit in love with me when we were alive.”

 

And Ernesto had been believed. Everyone assumed Héctor was a liar, or a trickster or a crackpot. People mocked and belittled Héctor and held Ernesto up as a paragon of patience for putting up with him.

 

Ernesto been unable to look Héctor in the face afterwards. Ernesto resented having to see Héctor at all. Just the sight of his friend reminded Ernesto of all that he had done. So Ernesto had him forcefully repelled by security, every time he came close to the house.  Ernesto had done something incredibly terrible and gotten away with it again, because there was no justice in either the living world or the dead world.

 

Ernesto had been waiting for justice to come for him since 1921 and it had never arrived.

 

 Perhaps he’d been waiting to hear the word “guilty” all that time.

 

A strange breeze came through the courtroom and it felt like it was blowing right through him.  Ernesto was feeling his hands shake. A horrible realisation sank into his stomach.  “Now? It’s happening now? This is bullshit!” Ernesto yelled angrily to the courthouse. “It was punishment all along that my soul needed?”

 

Ernesto knew he only had moments left. He’d make them memorable. These would be his last words.

 

 “How is this justice!” Ernesto wailed dramatically, in one last extravagant outburst, striking a pose. His gestures were full of anger and pathos and tragedy.

 

He smiled to himself. Nailed it.

 

Ernesto couldn’t help himself, he looked for Héctor in the crowded courtroom.

 

“Hey Héctor, those were pretty poetic last wo…”

 

-PUFF-

 

-0-

 

“Even Ernesto! Goddamnit! _Even Ernesto!”_ Héctor yelled, slamming his drink down. He was three drinks in. He was in loud-Héctor mode.

 

“Dude, it totally sucks!” Abel yelled back as he poured them out another vodka each. He was also in loud Abel-mode.

 

Abel had taken Héctor out drinking with his friends in the aftermath of the trial. Despite Rosa’s graphs, Héctor hadn’t been the one who got to puff back at the end of the trial. Asshole had instead. Everyone was being super nice to Héctor and treating him really delicately. Abel thought that it might have been annoying Héctor.  Héctor wasn’t delicate. Héctor said he only wanted to be treated normally.

 

Abel could do that.

 

What Abel _normally_ did when one of his friends was bummed was take them out to get messy drunk. He’d taken Héctor out with his friends and introduced him to vodka mojitos.

 

Three drink Héctor was a loud, fun Héctor. Loud Héctor was yelling about how it wasn’t fair, making lots more sarcastic comments about Ernesto.

 

Four Drink Héctor started expressing much sadness over the fact that his best friend wanted to kill him _on his birthday_ and now he couldn’t ever have another birthday or even drink tequila ever again.  Four Drink Héctor wasn’t a fun Héctor. He was a sad Héctor! Four Drink Abel felt like the solution to Héctor’s sadness was more vodka.

 

After five drinks there was some dancing Héctor.

 

After six drinks there was deep and philosophical conversation Héctor.

 

Seven Drink Abel was a bit of a pervert. After seven drinks, Abel started wondering out loud “Ernesto did have a massive crush on you. Who can blame him? You are one hot little piece, one of the _top ten sexiest men in Mexico,”_ Abel said, still giggling to himself about that magazine. He wished Victoria was still with them, just so he could watch them squabble about Héctor’s sexy genes.

 

“Well, I am muy guapo.” Héctor lamented very sadly, like being handsome was this _huge and terrible burden._

 

“Ernesto couldn’t stop staring at you in court. I reckon he totally thought about you when he was wanking. He definitely rubbed one out over your dead body – he was _way too defensive_ over that.”

 

“Why would you say that Abel? Why! That’s the worst thing you’ve ever said to me. That worse than all the times you called me a zombie!” Héctor looked horrified. He said really needed another drink after that comment.

 

After eight drinks, Héctor started crying on Abel’s shoulder about how much being murdered sucked. Being murdered was the worst. He never got to live his life or make it home to his family. Eight Drink Abel pulled Eight Drink Héctor into a sloppy, drunken and overly affectionate hug, declaring “you are home with your family.”

 

Nine drinks revealed a previously unknown tendency for petty vandalism in both Héctor  and Abel when they “re-decorated” the Ernesto statue that was still in the plaza.

 

 One of Abel’s friends was experimenting with graffiti and had a lot of spray paint.  The boys formed a drunken huddle and came up with a plan. Héctor climbed on Abel’s shoulders to paint a large butt on Ernesto’s chin. Someone drew many gigantic penises all over the wide brim of the hat. Someone sprayed a bikini over the top of the charro suit. Someone wrote rude variations of all Ernesto’s sayings on the base of the statue. One of Abel’s friends reversed into the statue with their car, finally toppling butt-chin off his lofty perch.

 

Take that, butt-chin!

 

The sound of sirens didn’t even register until a friendly officer was right next to him. Drunk Héctor just wanted to show off his artistic skill to their new ‘friend’. Abel had a brief moment where he regretted giving Héctor the ninth vodka.

 

Screw that! No regrets!

 

The statue looked so much better now. Asshole didn’t deserve a statue. Asshole had it coming.  Besides, drawing penises in spray paint was really hard! Abel was proud of his artistic achievement.

 

Maybe he could be an artist like Victoria?

 

Dectective Diaz looked amused. Sadly, being amused didn’t stop Diaz from taking them down to the station and calling Abuelita.

 

Abel had some regrets now.

 

-0-

 

Elena looked at the two fools snuggling against each other in the police holding cell. They had engaged in drunken shenanigans and petty vandalism and had been taken into custody by police for being drunk and disorderly. (Diaz was letting both these idiots off with a warning).  Elena had to come down here with Franco at three in the morning to collect them.

 

_Fools!_

They staggered over to her.  Héctor was leaning heavily on Abel, and Abel started leaning heavily on Franco. They walked out like a sloppy, drunken conga-line.

 

“Did petty vandalism make you feel better? Are you feeling fulfilled now?” Elena scolded Héctor as they walked through the plaza to the car.

 

“Ah, Elena, I think we both know the answer to that is no.” Héctor shrugged. “But at least we made the statue look better.” He said pointing at the statue.

 

The statue was now looking very undignified, lying face first on the ground, covered in obscene graffiti. The mayor had never got around to removing the statue, despite Elena’s frequent requests. She thought he probably wouldn’t bother with getting it repaired and replaced now.  She hoped they would melt it down for scrap metal. Then Santa Cecilia could be free of Butt-chin’s shadow in the plaza.

 

“Abuelita, I don’t feel so good.” Abel announced, and then vomited all over the statue’s hat.

 

“Oh, the smell. I can’t…” Héctor was a sympathetic vomiter and followed Abel.  

 

Elena couldn’t stop the smirk that graced her face. Ernesto De La Cruz, who’d built his entire career and success on the murder of her Héctor was now reduced to this; penises on his hat and vomit on his head.

 

 Oh, how the mighty had fallen.

 

“True. It does look better that way.” Elena conceded. “Come on, let’s get you both home to sleep it off.”

 

“You’re not going to yell at us?” Abel asked, sounding shocked.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll save my yell for tomorrow morning. Early tomorrow morning.”

 

-0-

 

Miguel loved Héctor. If he was being completely honest with himself, he was really happy that Héctor hadn’t puffed back at Christmas like he was expecting. Miguel had just wanted to spend more time with him. He wanted to learn more cool stuff on the guitar. He wanted the whole family to love Héctor as much as he did. 

 

Miguel had wished for more time with Héctor on Christmas. He’d just wanted Héctor to stay a little while longer.

 

And now, nearly a year later, Héctor was still with them.

 

Miguel wondered if his wish had actually worked.

 

He felt a little guilty. Miguel knew his wish had been selfish, and he wanted to fix it.

 

It wasn’t about making the reanimated “happy,” Tia Victoria had said just before she vanished.  Rosa, with her graphs and pie-charts told Miguel she thought it wasn’t about what they _wanted_ – it was what they _needed._ Ernesto needed to feel justice. Victoria needed joy and a holiday. Carmen needed to see her baby. Pedro needed to hear his mother say she loved him.

 

Since that conversation Miguel was always asking Héctor if he _needed_ anything.  He asked over guitar lessons, over dinner, during the walk to school, when Héctor had been bouncing little Coco in the air, or writing new songs, or cleaning his glasses. Héctor was getting a bit non-plussed by his constant questioning. He started wearing a hoody everywhere while carrying a tortilla and a glass of water. 

 

One day Miguel asked “Héctor, do you need anything?”

 

“Miguel, I’m warm enough, I have a snack and a glass of water – I’m okay really.”

 

Oi! Miguel realised that Héctor was doing the same thing to him that he had done to Rosita.

 

Miguel said Héctor didn’t need to do that because Miguel was only trying to help.  Héctor  asked what Miguel was trying to do? How was asking him if he needed anything 50 times a day helping? Miguel told him Rosa’s theory. He just wanted to figure out what Héctor  needed.

 

 Héctor gave a sad little smile and pulled him into a hug. “I’d tell you if I knew kiddo, but your guess is as good as mine. I clearly have _no idea_ what I need.” He gave a ruefully little shrug.

 

“Come on, Héctor. _Really think_ about it. There must be something.” Miguel urged. “What did you want more than anything when you were alive?”

 

“You know, I just wanted to have a family of my own. I’ve never wanted anything else. But I’ve been here for ages now Miguel. I’m not sure what else I can do. I’ve made shoes for this family. I’ve written songs for this family. I died again for this family and _nothing!_ So it can’t be as simple as that.”

 

“Well, maybe it’s from when you were dead. You were dead a long time…”

 

“97 years.”  Héctor interjected quickly.

 

“See, that is a long time.” Miguel said, giving him a playful nudge. “Did you need something when you were dead?”

 

“Hey Miguel, we don’t need to talk about this, eh? Let’s play that song you like already.”  Héctor said, trying to change the subject, but Miguel didn’t let him.

 

“You were the one who told me when something _really crappy_ happens to you, it's great to have someone to talk to about it. Talk to me.” Miguel said, putting his guitar to the side. “I know what your life was like over the otherside Héctor!”  Miguel warned, in case Héctor tried to laugh it off or pretend he’d been living the high-life in shanty-town and nothing bad had ever happened to him. 

 

“No, you don’t.”  Héctor said quietly.  

 

“But I saw shantytown and….”

 

“The poverty wasn’t the worst bit Miguel.”  Héctor said, not looking at him now. “It was the loneliness that got to me. Feeling alone and abandoned and despised by my own family…it broke my heart.”  Héctor trailed off here, and looked down sadly for a moment, before he physically seemed to shake himself.

 

 He put one arm around Miguel, cheerfully saying “But you don’t need to worry about that Miguel. You’ll never know what that feels like - not for a second. You must know your family will always love you, no matter what.”

 

Miguel leaned into the hug and wrapped his arms around Héctor ’s middle quickly. He gave him the biggest hug. His heart felt heavy just thinking of Héctor, feeling lonely and sad and rejected all that time. Miguel squeezed him tight, trying to make up for 97 years of isolation with one hug.

 

“Hey, hey Miguel. It’s okay. I’m okay.”  Héctor shushed him, giving him a cuddle back. It reminded Miguel bizarrely of cenote.

 

 Miguel had never been more afraid and lost than when he’d fallen in the cenote. He thought everything was dreadful and his life was over.  Then Héctor had come to him and hugged him.  Héctor had told him it was going to be okay…and for a moment, even in a pit of despair, it was.  

 

 Héctor had always been able to make him feel better. Miguel just wanted to do the same for him in return.

 

-0-

 

 _Well,  Héctor  was obviously lying about being okay_ Elena thought gruffly to herself.

 

Elena had been trying to help him too, in her own way. Maybe she wasn’t as organised about it as Luisa or Rosa, or as direct as Miguel…but she still cared. The conversation she’d overheard this afternoon had given her much to think about.

 

She was bothered by the way Héctor talked about all the things he was doing for the family (the shoes, the songs). It was like he thought he had to do these things so that they would keep him around. It sounded as if he thought they wouldn’t care about him if he wasn’t useful to them. It was like he thought their love was conditional, and he had to constantly proved his devotion.

 

Elena was a little offended by this, but to be fair to Héctor, the family had given him little reason to think otherwise for nearly a century. 

 

She walked up the stairs quietly and knocked on Rosa’s door.  Rosa looked up quickly from her book, clearly startled at seeing Elena. Elena asked Rosa if she could see her graphs.  Rosa seemed surprised that anyone wanted to see her graphs again.

 

The family had frequently gently teased her about her obsession with graphs and spreadsheets and mathematical equations. When she’d wanted then to sit down to a 40-minute power-point presentation featuring her graphs – instead of their usual movie - there had been some disparaging comments.

 

“I’ve had to re-work them Abuelita. Ernesto De La Cruz was an outlier. He’s _ruined_ my bell curve completely.” Rosa said, sounding a little disgruntled.

 

Ernesto De La Cruz really did ruin everything, didn’t he? He ruined lives, families, moods and graphs!

 

“Let me see what you’ve got anyway, Mija. It’s important.” Elena urged.

 

Rosa looked curious, but obliged. She clicked a few buttons on her laptop and brought up her powerpoint. Rosa had shown Héctor her graphs twice, even though Héctor hadn’t taken much from them aside from a new love of star wipes.

 

The largest section of the graph was labelled “Love”. It took up more than seventy percent of the chart.  Rosa explained that she’d used a general category, but there was a tab with subdivisions, if Elena wanted to see. Elena nodded.

 

Rosa excitedly explained her graph again, saying that most re-animated have puffed back after an encounter with a loved one. It didn’t have to be romantic love. It was often the love between families.  Héctor ’s friend Carmen had puffed back the instant she told her daughter she loved her so much. Pedro had puffed back the moment his mother said he loved him. 

 

“Why did you think Héctor needed justice, not love?” Elena asked.

 

“Well, it was right before the trial when I was using that theory. I discounted love for Héctor. He shows us he loves us all the time – but that’s not enough for him. It can’t be love, because we know he loves us and he knows we love him and he’s still here.” Rosa said.

 

 _Does  Héctor know we love him back?_  The thought occurred to Elena, almost entirely unbidden.  “Thank you Mija. You have helped a great deal.” Elena gave Rosa a little kiss on her head, before walking away.

 

Rosa was right. Elena did know Héctor loved her. She knew he loved the whole family. He’d told them, showed them, wrote songs for them, made shoes for them, he’d been hit by a car for them. There wasn’t much more he could do to show he loved them. Elena was trying to think if she’d ever showed that love back.

 

Of course, she had!

 

She made him coffee every morning. She got him song books, and glasses, and chocolate. She’d let him keep his cat and his Pedro. She put up with his ridiculousness.  She thought before she yelled now. She laughed with him when his joke wasn’t terrible.

 

But had she ever said it?

 

 _Words are important._ Enrique had said on the drive home from Pedro’s.

 

They had been for Pedro. He’d needed to _hear_ his mother say she loved him. Ernesto had clearly needed to face justice, but his soul had waited until he heard the guilty verdict before puffing back. 

 

Rosa hadn’t gotten it quite right with Victoria. She hadn’t just needed a holiday. She’d needed the family to love her as she was. She’d needed to see the family whole and happy and having fun with Héctor around. Victoria had both her true desires for whole summer in Mazunte… but it was only when she and Elena had been talking and they’d both said those words out loud that her beautiful sister had puffed back.

 

There was something in the way Héctor had reassured Miguel. _You must know your family will always love you._  He’d said it so insistently, like it was the most important thing to him– knowing you were loved.  Héctor said it like he knew the feeling of being unloved and rejected all too well.

 

Well, he did.

 

Héctor had known nothing but feeling lonely and unloved for nearly a century…perhaps longer. Héctor had been an unwanted child, an orphan with no family. The person he considered his brother had killed him.  Héctor would have only had a few brief years with Imelda and Coco – but then he’d been ripped out of the photo, rejected by her and despised by the rest of her descendants. Elena used to say things like he deserved to be forgotten. She never tried to think about what that time would have been like for Héctor.

 

 _It would have been awful for him,_ she realised, now that she was really thinking about it.

 

Héctor was good-natured and sweet-tempered, and such an extrovert. He had such warmth and kindness.  He was such a people person. He needed people around him. He liked to take care of people. She couldn’t imagine him so completely and utterly alone.

 

Elena couldn’t ever recall saying that she loved him.

 

_Words were powerful._

 

Surely, after all this time, it couldn’t be so simple.

 

Elena was no good with words. She’d always tried to show her love practically, by doing things for people…but for her grandfather, she would try.  

 

-0-

 

It was early morning.  Héctor was drinking coffee with Elena and grumbling that he really didn’t want the family to do anything over-the-top for his birthday. He wasn’t actually getting any older, anyway.

 

Everyone had said they’d have just a nice, quiet dinner at home, but Héctor knew they were lying. A lot of them had inherited his ‘tells’, after all. They could never fool him. Besides, he had seen the sneaky signs of a birthday-plot afoot.

 

He’d been airing his suspicions to Elena, when suddenly Elena gave an enormous and over-dramatic sigh.

 

“Something on your mind, Elena?”  Héctor asked mildly, reaching out to pat her on the back sympathetically – knowing she was looking to complain about something and wanted a willing ear and someone to commiserate with.

 

Elena always accused Héctor of being melodramatic, but she knew how to make a scene when there was something on her mind. She’d huff and pout and sigh until somebody asked her what was wrong.

 

“Oh Héctor, sometimes I hope you never go back.” Elena said grumpily.

 

“Elena!”   Héctor withdrew his sympathetic back-patting hand, feeling offended.

 

She was in a cranky mood this morning!

 

She was _starting_ with saying something so terrible when she knew he was sensitive about it. Héctor hadn’t even done anything ridiculous to piss her off today!

 

“No! Not like that. I mean…urgh!” Elena put her head in her hands suddenly. “I am trying to say something important to you, but I am no good with words and feelings. You know this!” Elena waved her hands in frustration.

 

 Héctor did know this about her. Elena didn’t like to talk about her feelings. Now she was trying to say something emotional. Though Héctor couldn’t fathom where this impulse had come from, he could hear her out patiently. “What are you trying to say, Mi terroncito de azúcar?”

 

Elena smiled a little. She’d always been amused by what she called his ridiculous pet names, (even if she acted like she was irritated with them). Sugar-lump was her favourite. She’d even say it back to him sometimes (but always very sarcastically).

 

“I am trying to say that I have come to really enjoy your company. Lord help me, I’ve gotten used to you,” Elena said with an extravagant sigh, like she was the most put-upon person on this earth. “I like having you around, Sugar-lump,” She added gruffly, reaching out and giving his hair a little ruffle.

 

“Oh. Well, I like your company too.”

 

“I’d keep you forever, if I could.” Elena said softly, as moved her hand to cup his chin gently. “But I…I think I have to try send you back.” 

 

“Well, if you have any bright ideas, I’m _all ears_ – get it.”  Héctor  said, pointing to his huge jug-ears. He wasn’t sure what to say in response, so he did what he always did and tried to make a joke out of it.

 

“Fool musician. How have I put up with you this long?”  Elena gave his chin a soft, affectionate little shake before her smiled dropped, and she looked serious again.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Words are important. There are some things I should have said a long time ago. I think if I say the right words you’ll be able to go home to Mama Imelda, like you’ve always wanted… But I’m no good at words.” Elena confessed softly.

 

“Don’t worry if it doesn’t work.”  Héctor  said quickly, not wanting Elena to get her hopes up or blame herself. It wasn’t her fault he had gotten stuck on this side of the marigold bridge. “Just try your best, eh?” 

 

Elena looked out the window and exhaled softly. She reached out and took one of his huge, unlined hands in her own.  Héctor could see the wrinkles on her skin. She was his grand-daughter, yet she was so much older. He was perpetually youthful.  He was always going to be the youngest – Héctor realised with a jolt. He always wanted to be the youngest too – he didn’t want any of his family suffering an early death the way he had.  He hoped they all outlived him many times over.

 

“Héctor, I wanted to say to you that you will always have a place with us. There’ll never be another music ban. _You are part of this family and you are so loved.”_ Elena began, her tone insistent.

 

Héctor felt his breath catch in his throat in astonishment. He would have never expected her just to blurt out something like that. He was so surprised that his hands started shaking. Elena gave his fingers a fond squeeze. She smiled at him before continuing.

“I don't care if you never write another song or make another shoe again. You don't need to do those things to prove yourself worthy of us. We love you just as you are. We love you so much.” 

 

“You love me?”  Héctor asked faintly and with great confusion. Elena had always been very reluctant with her affection. She preferred to call him a fool and tease him. She didn’t like being ‘soppy’.

 

“I love you. I’m going to miss you so much,” Elena pulled him into a huge hug.  Héctor wrapped his arms around her in return.

 

“I’m never going to forget you. You’ll never be left off the offrenda again. I promise.” Elena whispered into his shoulder.  

 

Héctor sighed deeply in bone-deep relief. He wasn’t going to be ripped off the offrenda again and cast into another century of loneliness.

 

He was loved.

 

Héctor felt the tightly-coiled bundle of hurt that lived deep in his heart for nearly a century finally relax. The knots fell away. Something soothing and warm and blossoming was filling the space where the broken thing had been.

 

He was loved. His family loved him. All his life, all his death, _family_ had been the only thing he ever wanted or needed.

 

The wind blew through the window suddenly in a huge gust. It felt like it was blowing right through Héctor. His hands were still shaking. It felt like they were dissolving, but it wasn’t painful. It didn’t hurt at all. There was the smell of marigolds in the air.

 

“I love you too, Elena.  Tell the others I love them so much.”  Héctor said quickly, trying to get his words out. He didn’t have long. It was finally happening to him, at long last. He was going home.

 

“They already know, you big fool.” Elena said, smiling against his shoulder, holding him  tight as his body dissolved in her arms.

 

-0-

 

What Elena felt immediately after her grandfather vanished in a big puff of marigold petals, in no particular order.

 

  * Joy: She’d been able to send Héctor home. She couldn’t help but feel so happy for him.
  * Vindication: SHE HAD BEEN RIGHT!
  * Absolution: After nearly an entire lifetime of mistakenly despising him and being unfair to him, she had finally done right by her grandfather.
  * Relief: She had said something super soppy, and embarrassing, but the only witness had vanished. No one would ever know.
  * More relief: She wasn’t going to have to adopt anymore scruffy creatures now her first scruffy musician had gone home. (Obviously, she’d still keep Dante and Pepita. They were part of the family. But after those two – no more strays!)
  * Vague annoyance: Marigold petals really did get everywhere. Who was left to clean up this mess? Elena, that’s who!
  * Worry: She was going to have to tell everyone else that Héctor had gone when they woke up. She knew they would be happy for him, but they would also be devastated. They’d all gotten too used to having him around.
  * More worry: Oh Miguel, he was going to be heartbroken.
  * Irritation: She had to cancel all the extravagant things she’d planned for his birthday now. Héctor had said he didn’t want anything over the top, but when had Elena ever listened to Héctor? Perhaps this was for the best. The jumping castle had been _a bit much_ , but Abel had assured her that Héctor’s reaction would be _worth it._
  * Buyer’s remorse: Really, she could have waited until after his birthday to say it. Oh well, perhaps she could leave his gifts on the offrenda for him to pick up next year. She wasn’t going to be ridiculous and start a Mount Héctor, but surely he’d still appreciate his birthday presents.
  * Sadness: She knew it was for the best, but she couldn’t help it. She was really going to miss Héctor now he was gone.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for sticking with this story. It ended up much longer than I originally planned, but I hope it was a fun ride. There's only one chapter left to go now. 
> 
> Sorry for my big delays in getting back to your wonderful reviews and comments. In some real life news, I am pregnant with my first child, and it has been a wild ride. I haven't always had the energy/time to respond, but I have loved all your feedback - especially the gorgeous art! Thanks Elletoria!
> 
> The title is from Landslide, by Stevie Nicks, which is a lovely song. It makes me think of Elena and her growth. Having Hector around really softened some of her harsher edges and helped her let go of the things that were making her angry and bitter. It helped her connect with her family, rather than enforcing her view on them.
> 
> There's also a cruel irony in there, because Hector's never getting older. It must have been such a weird position for him, being both 118 and 21 at the same time. He has all the knowledge and experience and pain of a much older person, but he's stuck as a 21-year-old, with 21-year-old thought processes. His family would have invariably treated him as much younger, because they all see a very young adult. They feel vary parental over their great grandfather, and I think Hector never quite figured out how to react to this.  
> I had him give into being an idiot 21-year-old with Abel this chapter. The drink counting and the different personalities is a shout out to B99! I wish I could have justified a Gina-style monolgue for it. "Five Drink Hector is Hector dance-pants."
> 
> So Hector finally got to puff back in this chapter. It was always going to be Elena telling him she loved him and accepted him as part of the family. Elena was the embodiment of the music ban and was the living Rivera most affected by Mama Imelda's impressive ability to hold a grudge. So Elena finally verbally acknowledging Hector as part of the family and telling him how loved he is was the thing that sends him home. It signifies Hector finally feeling fully welcomed and properly loved again after a near century of rejection.
> 
> Next chapter will be the lead up to the next dia de los Muertas.


	16. Know that I am with you the only way that I can be....

 

The family were as relieved and delighted and heartbroken as Elena predicted. Enrique hugged her and said she’d done a good thing. Miguel played his sad guitar sadly for the rest of the day. Rosa wanted to know exactly what happened, for her graphs. Gloria claimed her psychic had predicted this and she had known all along this would happen, so she’d never been worried.

 

Fool Psychic!

 

 Elena made this happen, not some hippy with a crystal.

 

Pah!

 

-0-

 

Detective Peralta called the morning after Héctor returned. The Mexico City Police Department were finally releasing his body.

 

Elena had to laugh at the timing.  

 

If they’d released it any earlier, Héctor could have been a guest at his own funeral. Perhaps it was for the best that it happened now. Being a guest at your own funeral would be morbid and weird.

 

Elena was going to throw Héctor a tasteful and serious funeral this time, since he missed out on being buried properly the first time around.  The mayor extended his condolences and wished to provide support in the planning of the event. They had different interpretations of _classy, elegant_ and _small_.

 

The mayor wanted to make the day of the funeral a district wide festival; less of a funeral and more a celebration of Héctor’s life and his contributions to the town. A crazy carnival filled with music and confetti and festivities. He proposed that the town could even make it an annual thing.

 

It would keep the tourists coming in.

 

He and Elena had several dramatic disagreements, but in the end Elena got most of the things she wanted.

 

They buried Héctor on November 30th, 2019\. It would have been his 119th Birthday.

 

The church was crowded, the plaza even more so. The whole town and scores of tourists had turned out to see Héctor off in style.  Enrique gave a good speech. Gloria too, managed to be somewhat poetic in her tribute.  She kept her musings about horoscopes and the mysterious forces of the universe to a minimum at least.

 

Miguel sang _Jug Ears_ and _Remember me_ until there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. Then he sang _Proud Corazón,_ and _Chamaco_ because those songs got everyone dancing. Miguel said Héctor only ever wanted to make people happy with his music.

 

Héctor was placed next to Mama Imelda and Coco with a simple headstone, like he would have wanted. Héctor had never been pretentious or ostentatious. He was always so sarcastic about Ernesto’s huge mausoleum. He’d made jokes with Enrique about _over-compensation_ when the children were asleep.

 

His grave was the only thing simple and discreet about the funeral. Everything else was a ridiculous extravaganza. The festivities spilled into the plaza and lasted late into the night.  However, Héctor had always been fond of the ridiculous and Elena couldn’t help thinking that he would have approved. He certainly would have found the jumping castle amusing. Elena got her deposit back, after all!

It was a fitting send off. The music was loud, the fireworks were bright and the smiles were brighter. Héctor had always liked to make people happy with his music, after all.

 

-0-

 

The house seemed quieter and emptier after the funeral.

 

 It felt strange to be packing up Héctor’s things. Elena put all the clothes she knew he liked, and his spare glasses, and his second pair of boots, as well as that book he’d been in the middle of reading on the offrenda. His smartphone, songbook, keys, and a pile of drawings the twins and Coco had drawn for him were also added to his pile.

 

-0-

 

Héctor’s music people had kept all his recordings. They wanted to release another album from rough recordings.  

 

Some were ‘mash-ups’, all sorts of different songs blended together. Héctor used to mess around with Enrique in the studio during their down-time. There were many recordings of Héctor teaching Enrique to play the guitar and playing covers of Enrique’s favourite songs. Héctor had brought up the fact that many of Enrique’s favourite songs had the same chord structure and had mixed up a couple of songs to demonstrate.

 

 The music people had loved them. They had brought up recording them officially with Héctor several times. Héctor said they were just for fun. He’d never seriously thought about releasing them, because they were other people’s songs. He didn’t think it was right to make money off other people’s song-writing.

 

The music people had hoped Elena, as Héctor’s nearest living relative, would be more amenable to the idea.

 

Elena was not more amenable to the idea.

 

“Just _listen_ to the songs.” The music person had said, holding a CD out. “Héctor was so good.  Just listen to his voice – the way he sings is incredible. We owe it to him to share these songs with the world. It’s what he would have wanted.”

 

Who was this impudent music person, to claim to know what her Héctor would have wanted?

 

He felt Elena’s wrath.

 

It had been so long since she had hit someone with her shoe.

 

It felt good to do it again.

 

-0-

 

Later, Elena listened to the demo CD the music person had left. She heard her son playing the guitar. She heard Héctor’s voice for the first time in months. The songs were uncut copies, and sometimes there was a little bit of Héctor and Enrique joking at the start or end of the tracks.

 

She discovered that there were several truly terrible jokes that those two fools had loved to tell each other. These jokes were incredibly rude and risqué in nature. Thankfully, these jokes had never made it home, because there would be children present.

 

Track 8 was roughly titled _Songs Berto Hates_. It was a mashup of well-meaning songs about healing the world and feeding the hungry. At the end of the song there had been some talking.

 

“There’s some nice melodies in these. Why does Berto hate them so much?” Héctor had asked mildly.

 

“He thinks songs about feeding hungry orphans are a bit of a drag.”

 

“Well, being a hungry orphan wasn’t that fun either, to be honest.” Héctor had fired back. “Tell you what, if I’m still around next year and I get to make another CD, I’m going to sing about feeding orphans and then _give all the money to the orphans_ and dedicate that song to Berto.”

 

“You’d do all that, just to annoy Berto?”

 

“No! Not just to annoy Berto… but it sucked, you know, having nothing as a kid. We relied on charity a lot. Now I can give back.  Orphans need all the help they can get.”

 

There was a pause.

 

“But annoying Berto is an added side-bonus, I’m not going to lie about that. I still haven’t gotten over the technology museum!”

 

The track cut out.

 

-0-

 

Some time later Elena contacted the music people and agreed to release the recordings on two conditions.

 

  * All the proceeds from the entire album went to a charity assisting orphans around the world.
  * The track about orphans be dedicated to her son Berto.



 

-0-

 

Héctor ‘cleaned up’ during award season, much to Gloria’s delight. She was the family member who was the keenest to get all dressed up, go to the ceremonies (and the after-parties) and accept the posthumous awards.  Miguel was invited to sing at a few ceremonies. On those nights Enrique went as a supervising adult.

 

A supervising adult proved useful for the combination of Gloria + Miguel + free champagne + celebrities.

 

-0-

 

A new statue was erected to replace the Ernesto one. There had been a town meeting to vote on potential options. Some people felt a replica of the Ernesto Statue was appropriate because of tradition. It had _always_ been there.  That man was still a part of the town’s history, despite what he did. 

 

There had many arguments and threats at shoe point.

 

Some people wanted to put a statue of Héctor there instead. Elena knew Héctor would have been horrified at the idea.

 

There were more arguments and threats at shoe point. 

 

 In the end, a compromise was reached.

 

A large brass replica of the white skull guitar Mama Imelda had given Héctor and Ernesto De La Cruz had stolen was placed in the plaza.  When Miguel was in the mood to play music in the Plaza, he would be found under the guitar statue.  It wasn’t long before the strings became shiny. Tourists seemed to think it would bring them luck to pretend to strum it.

 

Elena felt like pointing out that the guitar had never brought Héctor any luck at all. Miguel disagreed. If Miguel had never stolen the guitar, he never would have been cursed and they never would have known Héctor.

 

Miguel thought it was a very lucky guitar.

 

 

-0-

 

Elena frowned in consternation at the offrenda. She had never intended to do it, but a large pile had collected in front of Héctor’s side of the family photo.

 

It _wasn’t_ a Mount Héctor. She wasn’t nearly as ridiculous as that fool musician. It wasn’t even close to a mountain in size.

 

It was more like a small hill.   

 

A hill of Héctor.

 

Hills were _perfectly understandable_ and _not ridiculous._

 

To be fair, it wasn’t all her letters. The posthumous Latin Grammy Lifetime Achievement Award took up a lot of space, after all.

 

Elena found she had missed Héctor a lot more than she had expected. She missed his big brown eyes and his ridiculousness. She had missed starting every day sassing him over morning coffee. She liked his good humour, and the way he could make her laugh. She had liked the way he had always listened to her. The only way she could talk to him now was through writing. She’d started writing to him periodically. 

 

There had always been a reason.

 

\- To tell him about the huge extravaganza the mayor had made of his birthday/burial.

\- To tell him about Miguel’s new songs.

\- To complain about Pepita’s rudeness and how he really should have trained her better.

\- To tell him about the Latin Grammy, Gloria’s ridiculousness and her current irritating habit celebrity name-dropping in conversation.

\- To tell him about the statue and the fool tourists.

\- To tell him that now they had to deal with fool movie people on top of fool music people – _all because of him_. The movie people wanted to make a film about Héctor and Ernesto and the year of re-animation.  The family was now squabbling over which actors should play them in the movie.  Enrique was very insistent that Diego Luna should play his role because he was _muy guapo._ Berto favoured Gael Garcia Bernal for the role of Berto – the more dashing and handsome great grandson.  Elena thought they were both idiots.

\- There were four different letters containing her different thoughts and musings about the music people and their request to release the songs.

\- There was one very long letter explaining her final decision, because she really wanted Héctor to understand how much she was trying to respect his wishes.

 

It wasn’t quite enough, writing letters, but it had seemed better than nothing. It made missing him a little easier.  His songs still played on the radio. _Morning coffee_ would always have a special place in her heart. Every time she heard it, she thought of him.

She saw Héctor in her grandchildren. She saw him in Abel’s irreverence and good humour, the twins’ endless mischief, and Rosa’s sarcasm and eye-rolls. Miguel had so many of his mannerisms she couldn’t count them. His “crappy genes” really had been strong.

 

Héctor was still with them… the only way that he could be.

 

-0-

 

Héctor and Imelda held hands going through the departures gate. It took longer with two, but Héctor didn’t care. He’d hold Imelda’s hand forever if he could. He wasn’t planning on letting go any time soon.

 

Victoria had rolled her eyes in response when he’d said this. She had teased him a great deal about being “glued” to his wife since he got back.  “You keep holding hands, eventually your bones are going to fuse together.” She’d said as she stepped through the gates.

 

This was only his second time through the departure gates officially.  He still had to fight the impulse to slink in sneakily.  _Your family loves you,_ he told himself, giving his body a little shake.  If Elena was here, she’d grumble at him for being ridiculous.

 

The first time Héctor had gone through the departure gates after Miguel had been cursed and Imelda knew the truth, he had gone through on his own. He didn’t think there was another photo of him in the land of the living. Even if there was, he didn’t know if Miguel had been able to find it and put that photo up.

 

He was very sure the scanner was going to reject him again. But Imelda had wanted him to try, just in case.  For her sake, he had gone along, still expecting to be refused. He’d insisted they go through separately. He didn’t want Imelda to be held back just because he couldn’t cross over. He had felt overwhelmed with joy when he’d been able to cross that night.

 

Héctor had no anxieties about the scanner rejecting him tonight, so he and Imelda had gone through together.  It caused no end of frustration when the stupid machine started making a strange noise.

 

The light was flashing rapidly and a turbine started whirring inside it. A little plume of smoke rose alarmingly from the corner of the box.

 

“What is your devil box doing?” Imelda asked, with some irritation.

 

“I’m sorry. It appears Héctor Rivera is on so many new offrendas, it has temporarily confounded the machine.” The woman behind the counter apologised.

 

_It is I, Frida Kahlo. Shall we skip the scanner? I’m sure I’m on so many offrendas it will overwhelm your blinky thingy._

“That can happen?!” Héctor asked excitedly. 

 

He’d finally broken one of these? One of his crazy schemes had been right?

 

“Yes, but very rarely. I apologise. I don’t wish to hold you up. You will have a busy night. Here is your list of offrendas and their locations” She handed Héctor a print out and ushered them through.

 

Hector looked in astonishment at the paper in his hand. A picture of him was on nearly every offrenda in Santa Cecilia, as well as offrendas all over the country.  

 

 

-0-

 

Santa Cecilia had changed in a year.

 

He’d been properly buried next to his girls! That was amazing. The police must have got him out from under the titty bar and released his body to his family. It warmed Héctor’s whole heart to see that he was finally where he belonged.  He was next to Imelda and Coco.  He had a simple headstone that matched Imelda’s. The dates of his short life followed by the dates of his of re-animation were etched into the stone along with some lyrics from that song Miguel wrote:

 

_Our love for each other will live on forever._

Héctor liked that.

 

 The Ernesto Statue had been replaced by a statue of his guitar. Héctor liked that too.

 

The sun had only recently set. The annual talent show was getting started. Miguel was the opening act. He wasn’t competing. He was there to get the crowd excited. Miguel strode on to the stage proudly and let out a loud grito. It got everybody’s attention.  People clapped wildly. 

 

“So I’m going to start by singing you one of my Mama Imelda’s favourite songs. It was also the first song I ever performed live in front of an audience with my Papa Héctor, so it will always be special to me; get ready for _Un Poco Loco.”_

 

-0-

 

“Héctor’s here Abuelita, if you want to say hi.”  Miguel said to Elena in the courtyard.

 

“ Welcome home, fool musician.” Elena said, suppressing a smile.

 

“Ah, don’t let her fool you Héctor. She’s really missed you. She’s made a Mount Héctor for you.” Miguel said fondly, smiling at his grandmother.

 

“It’s not a mountain, Miguel! It’s only a hill. That’s very different.” Elena huffed, crossing her arms and sounding embarrassed.

 

Héctor rushed to the offrenda room, feeling like a kid a Christmas. He was curious to see what Elena had left him.  

 

There were wrapped presents, music awards and statues, ( _was that large one a Grammy?!)_ lots of CDs, a CD player so he could play the CDs, a large assortment of snacks, some of his favourite clothes, spare glasses, several books, and a box of letters. She’d piled her letters neatly and in chronological order. How very like Elena.

 

He opened the first one.

 

_Dear Héctor ,_

_We love you and miss you. I am not going to be writing to you everyday, because I am not a ridiculous idiot. I have other things to do!_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lovely readers, 
> 
> The chapter title is from 'remember me' - which is the only coco song I've used. This chapter deals with how Hector's family and the wider world will remember him now. A few people mentioned that Hector should get a latin grammy - so he did. Hector deserves nice things. I'm going to finish the story here, but I wanted to cover a little bit of the falling action after Hector went back. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with this until the end. I've loved all your kind comments and knowing that you liked reading this.


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